


Fault

by KaiosReins



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, An entire town full of OCs, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, One Shot, R&R, Teufort got cleaned up, lol maybe not, well mostly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-03-30 20:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 50,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13959537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiosReins/pseuds/KaiosReins
Summary: "What the hell are kids doing in 2fort?"It's been over forty years, and Teufort has rebuilt and moved on from the chaos that followed the old compounds' abandonment.  When a faulty teleporter creates a break in time, though, a lot of things are explained - and a lot more are going to have to change, if the Mann Co. mercs are going to avoid trouble.But there's something about Teufort that just doesn't seem quite right, and nobody can figure out exactly what it is.  As if trying to fit into a world forty years advanced wasn't enough, a respawn damaged by time is turning out mercenaries thatlookthe same andsoundthe same, but there's something about them that's darker; they want something, and they're ready to kill anyone who gets in their way - even civilians."You want to know what's different?  We're better.  That's what's different."First TF2 fic - please give feedback!





	1. Flare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be a one shot, I swear. Then it just... grew a set of legs and took off running and I don't have the heart to call it back. This is basically my first fic in the TF2 universe, so be gentle.
> 
> Also, if you enjoy reading this then toss a comment my way. I like to hear back from people.

Dust covered the thick wooden floorboards, muffling the footsteps of the pair as they peered into what looked like a combination between a bathroom and gym change room. A sign beside the giant roller door had labelled the room as RESUPPLY, but the fluorescent tube that had once illuminated the sign had given in to the workings of time, as had the only other sign in the room - INTELLIGENCE.

Torchlight danced over the white-tiled room, and one of the pair stepped forward.

"Heya Toni - check it out!"

The teenager pointed his beam at a collection of lockers, and a bench with clothing discarded on it. He made a move to touch it, but the girl was shaking her head insistently.

"Don't! You know what that mill did to the groundwater - what if that shit's infected as well?"

"I'll take my chances," the boy commented, picking up the discarded vest, "It's like, some sort of military thing. Remember how they used to say the people around here were always fighting? What if this was some old military training place?"

"I doubt it," Antonia sighed, hugging herself. "Look, can we just go and meet up with the others? This place is starting to _really_ creep me out."

The boy, Jacob, shrugged nonchalantly, discarding the vest on the floor. Really, it was a surprise none of the other campers had ever taken it. Maybe Antonia was right, and it was poisoned or something.

"What'd'ya think that meant?" He asked, swinging his torchlight over the INTELLIGENCE sign. An arrow pointed through a small storage room, towards a long corridor that seemed to wind out of sight. Antonia rolled her eyes and shrugged.

"Look, Jesse and Amber haven't radioed back and we agreed to do that as much as we can. I'm worried something happened to them,"

"You know what they're like," Jacob shrugged, peering into the corridor, "Where do you think this goes? It looks like it goes down a long way."

"The sophomores never said," Antonia replied, "Jacob, c'mon. _Please_!"

"Nobody's ever managed to get that briefcase before," Jacob told her, "Toni, do you know how _cool_ we would be if we were the first ones to bring it back? Nobody could touch us! Screw being stupid freshmen - even the seniors wouldn't be able to talk shit!"

"And what if this whole place is full of radioactive stuff and being here is killing us?"

"You worry too much. I'm gonna check it out."

Antonia hesitated, looking around the creepy wood-walled room as Jacob started down the long corridor. It was a tradition that every single freshman at Teufort High had to spend a night in the creepy old compounds in the desert, not far from the town, and Antonia had reluctantly followed her best friend Amber into the agreement. A senior had dropped them at the gates of this place at sunset, along with some food and water, and promised to return for them at sunrise. Antonia and Amber, along with Amber's boyfriend Jesse and his best friend Jacob, had entered the compound through a small gap in the wire fence. A sign hanging on the fence had proclaimed the place to be called "2fort", along with various warnings about trespassers risking being shot. The place had once been owned by some company called TF Industries, but, like all the other TF Industries compounds near Teufort, had been abandoned and condemned in the mid-70s.

"Jacob, wait up!"

Antonia hurried along the corridor, torchlight bouncing off the white walls and polished floor. Unlike the rest of this part of the base, this part actually seemed to be made to be bulletproof.

The challenge for most of the freshman campers was simple: survive an entire night in the place without wimping out, and you'd avoid the typical freshman bullying for the year. The senior that had dropped them off had explained a lot of things he'd learned from his Pop about the place, especially about how the old sawmill leaked chemicals into the groundwater. His Pop was supposedly one of the only non-crazy people over forty in the town, and the student had even regaled them with a story about how a few of the contractors who were supposed to protect the compounds had almost been hanged for various crimes once.

Teufort had a colourful history, but unfortunately nobody around their age really cared for history of any sort.

Antonia saw Jacob had stopped at the bottom of the spiralling passageway, and hurried to catch up to him before he ran off again. "Look, can we _please-- Whoa_!"

They had stopped in the doorway to a large room with several more passageways branching off, staring at the huge wall in front of them. The wall to their right was a huge window, overlooking some sort of underground complex, while the ceiling of the room was very clearly carved from bedrock.

"It looks like one of those old 70s computers," Jacob said, moving towards it, "But... some of this stuff looks too tech for the 70s. What the hell?"

Antonia swung her torch beam over the rest of the room, noticing another RESUPPLY sign in one direction, and another INTELLIGENCE sign pointing towards one of the corridors.

"You think this was some old kind of power plant?" Jacob asked, looking over the wall of tech, "Most of this looks like powerboard sort of stuff, except that... it's way more than what a place like this would need."

Antonia pushed back the foreboding feeling as she peered down the marked hallway. She could sense... _something_ was close. Intangible, and probably dangerous, but this whole new discovery seemed, well, pretty damn cool. Suddenly, they weren't just in some creepy old fort built in the 1800s - this place was evidence of the Australium theory, surely? There was no way they'd have the power to run computers or anything the scale of what she had seen through the window, not without Australium.

"What if this... "intelligence" stuff," she began hesitantly, "What if it's actually a stash of Australium?"

Jacob looked up at her, clearly confused. "Huh?"

"Only the _most_ valuable substance in existence," Antonia stressed, "There used to be heaps of it but since the seventies, there's been, well, hardly any. There's a couple of tiny reserves of it in Australia, but the cost of actually drilling that deep to reach it is almost the same as the cost as the stuff itself. Don't you listen in science class?"

"I only listened in one science class," Jacob admitted, "That time we were talking about anatomy. And I got nothin' out of it, so I stopped botherin'."

Antonia rolled her eyes again. "Okay well, rundown, y'know how Australians used to be a global superpower, even better than America? That was because of Australium. None of the stupid Cold War stuff, and they didn't even need nukes or to threaten people to get what they wanted. They were just _nice_. Really weird, but nice. So nobody really got on their bad side, so they never really had anyone trying to start wars, even though they had all this Australium. And the stuff itself, you could do _anything_ with it. Teleporters, machines that made sure you never died, even cloning stuff - it was all because of Australium. Then in the seventies, the reserve just dried up. The only stuff left is so low in the earth's crust that to dig it up would cost trillions of dollars, and also maybe accidentally tap the mantle - that's the lava part of the planet, where volcanoes basically come from. It's too dangerous and too expensive,"

Jacob had stopped inspecting the powerboards, and was frowning as he thought carefully. "And you think this intelligence these signs keep pointing to, that it's Australium?"

Antonia shrugged. "I don't see why not."

"So if we take it, then not only will we be coolest kids in school but we'll also be super rich?"

"Yep,"

Jacob was predictable, and that was why Antonia had brought it up - she didn't want to go down that hallway alone, or be the first one in case it was booby-trapped. Jacob, however, didn't think of these things, instead making a beeline straight down the hallway. Antonia followed hurriedly, torchlight bouncing about as she jogged to catch up.

The hallway ended in a room that was mostly empty, except for a desk in one corner with a large red case on it, and two weird-looking contraptions. One of them looked like a camera on a tripod, except much smaller, and the lens seemed to be pointing at the ground. The other device looked even more odd - a H-shaped base, upon which something that looked like two arms was balanced. Small circles at the outermost end of each arm gave off the faintest red glow, and Antonia found herself staring at it in confusion.

Jacob, however, marched straight over to the red case on the desk and looked it over. A small panel on one side had a pair of lights and a few buttons, while the clips looked like typical locking mechanisms for a normal suitcase or briefcase.

"Should we open it?" He asked, "Or just take it?"

"I don't know," Antonia admitted, following him into the room, "I mean, we've got all night to look at it, but..."

Jacob looked at the panel on the case. "Do you feel like staying down here?" He asked, looking at Antonia. She shrugged.

"I mean, it doesn't seem as creepy as upstairs."

"Yeah, I guess," Jacob chewed his lip, "'Cos I don't know if I can get it open. I should be able to, but... If this panel has something to do with it, then it might be tricky,"

"The other room was less creepy," Antonia admitted, looking at the camera-looking thing, "I think we camp in there. Upstairs just feels like it might _actually_ have ghosts wandering around."

"Ha, ghosts don't scare me," Jacob said, grabbing the case and pulling it off the desk. "Whoa, this is _heavy_!"

As soon as the case left the desk, a red light in the corner began to flash and an old woman's voice called out from hidden speakers seemingly surrounding them.

" _The enemy has stolen our intelligence!_ "

Jacob, still dragging the case, backed away from the desk as Antonia pressed herself against the wall. A whirring noise had begun, and as she looked over, she saw that the lights on the weird armed device had begun to glow brighter, the arms whirring around in a circle until the light seemed to be a disc.

"What's going on? This place shouldn't even have power!" Jacob cried. Antonia kept her eyes on the whirring disc as the light seemed to gather together in the centre. The air felt like it was being sucked out of the room suddenly, and there was a blinding flash from the device.

Antonia screamed as a gunshot went off, and Jacob threw himself aside, dropping the case as he hit the ground, screaming as well. Antonia backed herself into the corner as the man charging towards them stopped suddenly, his scowl turning to a look of surprise.

" _The enemy has dropped our intelligence!_ "

The contraption in the corner slowed its whirring, then picked up, whirring louder and faster. The same sensation of all air being sucked out of the room happened again, and then another man appeared in a flash of light.

Even being from the Badlands, Antonia had never had a gun pointed at her. Now, though, she found herself facing two of them. Her knees gave out under her and she hit the ground, having backed herself in behind the camera tripod thing. She realised she was crying as the device did it's whirring thing again and for the third time, all the air seemed to draw in around that one point.

"What the _hell_ is _this_?"

Antonia looked up to see the second man had picked up Jacob by the collar of his shirt, setting him on his feet. "Spy, even you know better than that. C'mon now, show yourself."

Jacob looked frozen, shaking as the Texan man slung his shotgun over one shoulder. He looked pale, and as the first man turned to look at him, he let out a dry sob.

"Engie, somethin's wrong," the first man stated, looking around the room. The only light sources were the flashing red light, the light from the whirring contraption, and the torch beams from the two dropped torches. Antonia stayed where she was, silently praying that the camera thing would keep her somewhat hidden from view.

"I can't pick up anything on the radio," the first man stated, tapping the headset he was wearing. He flicked a microphone down in front of his mouth. "Yo, Spy, Doc. Anybody read?"

"Ach, they cut the power, it looks like," a Scottish voice stated, ignoring Jacob completely, "I'll go see what they've done,"

He brushed past the Texan, who still had a hand on Jacob's shoulder. Jacob, for his part, was trying not to cry - especially so since the first male had turned his gun to point at him.

"There was another one," the first one stated, "What happened to them?"

Antonia realised that he wasn't interrogating Jacob, but the gun pointed at him made it look like he was threatening him. Jacob was frozen, crying, and the Texan looked around the room, spotting Antonia - or rather, what she was hiding behind.

"Well I'll be damned," he said softly, letting go of Jacob's shoulder and walking towards the corner, "Scout, put yer gun away. It's a pair of kids,"

The other male saw Antonia hiding behind the tripod, and scoffed, holstering his gun. "What are _kids_ doing in 2fort?"

" _Our intelligence has returned to our base._ "

Antonia flinched at the woman's voice, which sounded at the same time the case seemed to dissolve into thin air. At the same time, though, it appeared on the desk, exactly as it had been when Jacob had grabbed it.

"Come on out, li'l missy. Sentries aren't good for hiding behind,"

Antonia looked up at the Texan man, who was offering her a hand, and slowly took it. He gently pulled her up, out from behind the sentry, and gestured for her to join Jacob in front of the desk. The other male, Scout, was awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.

"How do we know they're not just Spys?" He asked. The Texan shrugged, expression unreadable behind a pair of welding goggles as he pulled a wrench off his toolbelt.

"I've never seen Spy impersonate a kid, or a girl," he explained, "Say what you will, but he's got standards. All right, kids," he turned to Jacob and Antonia, both flinching as he addressed them. "What are you pair doin' here? I'mma guess you're from Teufort, right?"

Antonia nodded slowly, ever-aware of the scout man staring at them.

"Then what are y'all doin' here?" The Texan asked. Antonia looked at Jacob, who still looked like he was crying. She probably was, too, but she wasn't the one that had been shot at. The Texan, at least, seemed nice.

"W-we w-were meant t-to st-stay the n-night," she explained, voice shaking almost uncontrollably, "I-it's a d-dare ev-very fr-freshman has to do,"

"Wait, it's a freshman dare?" The scout guy asked. Antonia nodded, and he looked at the Texan as the power came back on.

"Got the power," the Scottish man yelled from the next room, "Some of this stuff has so much dust on it, though,"

"Why would y'all send each other to a warzone for a dare?" The Texan asked. Antonia caught her breath for a moment and realised Jacob was still shaking.

"Th-this place has been abandoned since the seventies," she explained, "There's a bunch of compounds in the area, all the same."

The device in the corner began to whir again as the Scottish man returned, and Antonia gasped as the disappearing air sensation struck again. None of the men seemed affected by it, and a bright flash filled the room as she looked back to see a giant mass of human step away from the... whatever it was.

"Something not right," the new arrival said in a thick Russian accent, "Spy is here, but not here."

"Lads," the Scottish man nudged the scout guy roughly, "'E's right. The powerboard's all covered in dust and dirt. Doesn't look like it's been touched for years,"

"Engie, that's your teleporter," the scout told the Texan, who was shuffling his hard hat back and forth, "I was standing with you when you placed it in exactly that spot. Same for that sentry,"

"This room looks exactly like how I left it," the Texan, Engie, agreed, "But there's dust all over the sentry, and it's run out of power - that never happens."

"Why are children here?" The Russian asked, looking at Antonia and Jacob in confusion, "How did you get in?"

"There's a h-hole in the fence," Antonia explained, glancing at Jacob. "I-I can show you. It's how everybody gets in."

"Shit, Scout, did you shoot as soon as you stepped out?" Engie demanded, moving forward and grabbing Jacob's arm. Antonia could see blood seeping through his jacket, near his shoulder.

"Well, yeah, I thought BLU--"

"Heavy, was Medic gonna follow ya?"

"Doktor will follow if I do not return."

"All right," Engie gripped Jacob's arm. "Keep pressure on that for now, son. Our medic can help you once he gets here."

"Wherever _here_ is," the Scotsman stated, looking at Antonia. He and the Heavy guy were both carrying enough weaponry to scare her into silence, and the eyepatch gave him a frightening appearance, but he seemed to be nice. "What's yer name, lass?"

"A-Antonia," Antonia replied.

"Right. Well, I'm Tavish. You alrigh'?"

Antonia nodded slightly, glancing at Jacob. "I'm... Who are you?"


	2. Wrangler

The doctor that had followed was a terrifying German guy with a grin that only made him look more frightening than actually reassure Jacob.

The men had mostly introduced themselves using nicknames, with Tavish the Demoman being the only one to give his proper name so far. Antonia was sitting at a table in a small kitchen, sipping a bottle of water, and Heavy and Tavish had found Jesse and Amber in the other side of the compound, bringing them back to the common room.

The Scout's gun was loaded with something like buckshot, apparently, because the pellets had spread out when he had fired and one had hit Jacob's arm. Scared of the men at first, he had tried to stay silent about it, but then the blood had soaked through his jacket and the Engineer had noticed.

"I have no idea, Spy," Engineer was telling the last man that had come through the teleporter - a tall, thin man in in a tailored suit and some sort of morph mask that only showed his eyes and mouth. "I'd have to be able to access both functional ends to figure out what happened. All I can think of is that something happened to mess up the connection.

"When did you say these compounds were abandoned?" The French man, Spy, turned to the table where Jacob was sitting with his friends, his arm now bandaged with the bullet having been removed.

"1973, I think," Amber spoke up. The men were much nicer to the girls, which annoyed Jacob for some reason. "I looked it up in local history. They were all owned by TF Industries but nobody really knew what happened. Then everything that was happening around them just sort of... stopped. Nobody noticed until they realised that the bomb testing had stopped, and then the cops investigated, but never figured anything out."

"Interesting," Spy said thoughtfully, turning to Engineer again. "Do you recall the incident when Soldier disappeared after teleporting, then showed up a week later?"

"Do I ever?" Engineer chuckled, "Quietest week we've ever had, I think. You think it was somethin' like that?"

"That's impossible though," an Australian man nicknamed Sniper, was sitting at the other table that had been hastily set up, "Even the New Zealanders couldn't figure out time travel - what makes you think a faulty teleporter could do it?"

"The very event of teleportation itself is already considered a miracle, even by New Zealand standards," Doctor Ludwig argued, "Perhaps there is an expert in such a field that could explain it better."

Jacob looked at Jesse and the girls, who were watching the men argue. Tavish, Heavy, a loud American called Soldier, an overweight person with a flamethrower (the others had called them Pyro), and the Scout had been sent to check out the rest of the place and find any other kids that might be hanging around.

"Short jumps ain't been ruled out," Engineer argued, "But forty-odd years? Teleporters power down if they're not used after thirty minutes, but there'd be nothin' to keep it functional forty-four years after it had been set up,"

"Miss Antonia, Master Jacob," the Spy turned to you both, "Describe exactly what happened before Scout appeared."

Antonia looked at Jacob nervously, and he decided to lead this one.

"Well, we went into that room and I picked up the case," Jacob began, "And a light started flashing, and that voice called out over the speaker, and then... the teleporter started up and, well," he shrugged. They had already gone over what had happened once Scout had stepped through the teleporter about ten times in front of the students.

"And what was it that prompted you to send Scout through?" Spy asked, turning back to Engineer.

"Well, the intel was stolen, obviously," he stated, "Sent him through because he could run down the thief faster than anyone else."

Jacob looked over and saw it first - a tenth young man, standing in the doorway as he watched the discussion, mouth agape. Unlike literally all of the men that had appeared so far, this one wasn't armed and looked like he was just a normal guy. Jacob gave him a small wave, and he stared at Jacob and the others.

"Uh, mates,"

It was the Australian that drew the other mens' attention to the stranger, and they stared at him in surprise for a moment.

" _Merde_ ," Spy muttered, "Can we help you?"

"Uh..." the man looked around, almost like he was trying to understand his surroundings. "I... My brother. He disappeared a few months ago. This is one of the last places he was seen,"

Jacob watched the other men in the room react, especially Spy. His eyes narrowed as he studied the man closer. "What is your name?" He asked.

"Jaicob. I... I came here with two other brothers, Joshua and Jaiden."

Jacob bristled as he heard the man saying his own name, though it sounded a little odd. He had a Boston accent, and was clearly in his thirties, but Jacob was very protective of his name and hated knowing that he shared it with a bunch of other people around the world.

"Scout's brothers," Spy told the others, rolling his eyes, before he realised something. "Wait - you said he had been missing for how long?"

Jaicob looked a little unnerved, looking at the other men in the room, and the four students. "He disappeared back in September. Police can't find any record of him so we started looking where he worked--"

"But it's still September," Amber said, looking at the others, "Even you guys said that. September twelfth."

"What? No, it's November twentieth,"

"Let me guess - 1973?" Engineer asked. Jaicob nodded, frowning.

"Look, whatever's going on, my Ma and my other brothers know where I am. I left them a note, told them I was going through that spinning red thing--"

Engineer knocked Spy aside as he moved towards Jaicob suddenly. "Jaicob, right? Tell me exactly _where_ did you leave that note?"

"I... stuck it to the wall right beside the thing," he replied. Engineer turned to the others, shifting his helmet again.

"We might have more company," he told the others, "If Scout's brothers have gone looking, others might follow,"

"Miss Pauling and the Administrator would have been the first to come through," Spy remarked, "I doubt they would allow our absences to go uninvestigated for more than two months."

"Well, we know the respawn still works," Tavish's voice echoed from down the hallway, "Soldier just misjudged a jump, broke his neck and respawned."

"Uh, I would recommend not relying on that too much," Doctor Ludwig told him as he entered, "It has been out of use for forty years; Engie should take a look at it before anybody else goes using it,"

"Who's this?" Tavish asked, gesturing to Jaicob who had nervously stepped into the room.

"One of Scout's brood," the Australian replied, "Apparently he also left a note, so we might have company showing up."

Jacob zoned out from the conversation, looking around at his classmates. Jesse and Amber were sitting so close it was almost awkward to look at, and Antonia was watching everything happening like a caffeine-hyped toddler.

"Respawning is only a thing in video games, right?" Jacob asked in a soft voice. Jesse looked at him, nodding slowly.

"Yeah, when you die in the game, you respawn. Some games actually explain it by saying, like, teleporting and stuff. But, like... It's not an actual thing. Hey, does anybody have their phone?"

Amber scoffed. "What do you think this is, amateur hour?" She produced her phone from her jeans pocket, and Antonia did the same. Jacob also pulled his out of his back pocket, looking at the screen.

"Maybe one of us should sneak off to the bathroom," he suggested, "Call the cops,"

"I don't have service,"

"Me either,"

"Or me,"

Jacob sighed, noting that his own phone didn't have any service. "Okay, well... maybe there's telephones around here somewhere. Wasn't there one on the desk in that room? We could use that to call someone, surely,"

Antonia was rolling her eyes. She'd be cute if she wasn't such a know-it-all, Jacob thought. "It probably isn't even connected to the grid," she stated, "It wouldn't get you anywhere. No, we just have to hope they let us go before sunrise."

"I don't even know how long Alex'll wait for us," Jesse admitted, "And even when he does pick us up, how are we gonna explain Jacob's arm?"

Jacob looked down at the white bandages covering his arm. "How am I gonna explain it to my mom?" He asked, "She's gonna _freak_."

"I knew this whole thing was a bad idea," Antonia groaned, "We're all gonna get in so much trouble,"

"Hey, if we survive then it means we don't get picked on for the entire first year of high school,"

"What's the worst they can do?" Antonia demanded, "Wedgies and swirlies. It's not that big of a deal,"

"Not that big for _you_ , maybe," Jacob muttered bitterly.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

"What? You're a nerd, you probably get that stuff all the time, so it's just another day to you. Some of us come from the top of the school chain, though."

"Hey, she's not a nerd!" Amber argued, looking at Jesse, "Wow, your friend is such a dick!"

"I mean, you're smart," Jesse told Antonia, "So he's kinda right."

Amber shoved Jesse. "You take that back!"

"I'm not a nerd!" Antonia argued, "Just because _you're_ an idiot doesn't--"

"Hey, I'd wanna be an idiot instead of a teacher's pet!"

"Leave her alone!"

Jacob felt himself being pulled back off the chair suddenly, and saw that the men had all grabbed the others and pulled them away from each other as well.

" _Please_ don't tell me we have to babysit children as well," the Frenchman sighed heavily, letting Jacob go, "Stop your bickering. There are more important issues at hand and we do not have time to deal with children."

Jacob looked around as the others were let go, and realised that there was a woman and two more men in the room, plus Scout had also returned.

"This is Miss Pauling," Spy gestured to the woman, introducing her to the quartet of teenagers, "Miss Pauling, this is Jacob, Amber, Jesse and Antonia. They were here when we arrived, about an hour ago."

"Why were there _kids_ in 2fort?" She asked, sounding more irritated than anything else.

"Some sort of school dare," Doctor Ludwig replied, "But we should send them on their way. This is no place for children,"

"We're meant to stay until sunrise," Amber spoke up, "Sunset to sunrise, one night. Basically every freshman does it."

"There's gonna have to be a stop put to that," Miss Pauling stated, "As for these kids, we should get them home-- wait, what happened to your arm?" She pointed to Jacob, who glanced down at the bandaging covering his arm. He shrugged.

"Yeah, I uh, shot when I was coming out of the teleporter," Scout said awkwardly, "I didn't know it was kids, I thought it was someone on BLU--"

"Oh my god, are you okay?" Miss Pauling asked, ignoring Scout's rambling and hurrying to Jacob's side, checking him over, "We need to get you to a hospital right away!"

"I removed the pellet and bandaged the injury," Doctor Ludwig volunteered, but Miss Pauling was already shaking her head.

"That's not gonna be enough, Medic. They're kids, normal kids - their bodies aren't going to heal like ours do,"

"Oh, right, I forgot about that," Ludwig stated, thinking, "Then yes, it is probably for the best that the boy is taken to a hospital. I could perform the procedure in my laboratory, but given the condition of this base, I do not think my lab conditions would be appropriate."

"I'm fine, I don't need a hospital," Jacob shook his head, pulling his arm away, "It's just a little hole,"

"It's an open wound, son," Engineer told him, "You really should go to a doctor's surgery, get some stitches in that."

"Okay, I'll do that," Miss Pauling volunteered, "Keep that teleporter open. If Mr Hale and his assistants haven't shown up yet, they shouldn't be too far away. I don't know who else to expect, though, since I came through in March. I'll also do what research I can while I'm out. Engie, see what you can do about respawn. I'll also bring back food. C'mon, kids,"

"But our dare--" Jesse began to protest as Miss Pauling grabbed Jacob's uninjured arm and started for the doorway. She turned back, seeing the other three hesitate.

"You'll have a good enough story to give you an excuse," she reassured them, "Come on."


	3. Teufort's Danger Shield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, sorry for the lack of update, been a li'l busy with some stuff. Should have something up in the next 12 hours, and then I'll try and settle into a regular update pattern.
> 
> Leave comments with ideas and thoughts. Like I said, this is my first published TF2 fic so I'd love to get all the feedback you can possibly give.

Forty-four years.

Miss Pauling tried not to think about it too much. Not from her own perspective, anyway.

A quick check in the garage beneath 2fort had unearthed one of the sedans, and Miss Pauling had made sure it still ran before loading the four teenagers into the car and driving towards Teufort.

"This place sure has changed since I was last here," Miss Pauling admitted as the car was stopped at a boom gate, "You keep track of everyone who comes in and out of the place?"

"When the wastes were deserted, apparently a whole heap of mercenaries came through thinking there was still Australium there," Amber explained, "They... killed a lot of people for stupid reasons. A sheriff from Texas took over, put the place under some sort of martial law. State and Feds didn't do anything, so it came down to the townspeople."

"How did they get around the chemicals in the water?" Miss Pauling asked.

"They cut off the water supply and everyone had to live on bottled for a long time. The sawmill was destroyed, and then a new reservoir was built. I don't know how he did it but Sheriff Hood managed to convince Mann Co, so big company, to pay for it all."

"Mann Co?"

"They're a mining company,"

"Oh," Miss Pauling figured that it was best to not say anything about that.

The gatekeeper spoke to Amber for a few minutes, before Miss Pauling was asked to step out of the car. Lying was a daily part of her job, so providing a home address and date of birth weren't too difficult. The gatekeeper took two photos of her face, informing her that they would be used to identify her when she left, and unless she wished to join the guest registry, all the information she had provided would be destroyed upon her departure.

"They take security very seriously here," she noted as they were waved through the gate.

Beyond, the small town she had once known was almost unrecognisable. Many of the old houses had been demolished with houses that looked almost Australian in design lined the streets. Front gardens appeared to be perfectly-kept, without even a blade of grass out of place, and Miss Pauling had to admire the nature strip gardens Amber explained as they followed the main street. The town centre had been totally altered altogether, the original planning torn up and replaced. Overall, the town looked almost... well, idyllic.

"Alex's Pop said there used to be a dump in the middle of town square," Jesse, the other boy, leaned forward, "Is that true?"

"Yeah, it was awful," Miss Pauling stated, "I can barely even recognise the place, now. How long has there been a high school here?"

"1998," Antonia replied, "It'll be twenty years old next year."

"Jacob, you still with us?" Miss Pauling looked in the rearview at the teenager. A few well-placed questions had determined him to be the younger of the two boys, being still fourteen while Jesse had already turned fifteen. The girls were both fourteen, with birthdays later this month. What concerned her was the fact that Jacob had been so quiet for most of the trip that she was worried he might be suffering from blood loss.

"Hey, the sheriff investigates all violence injuries personally," Antonia stated, "What exactly are we meant to tell him, and the doctors? I don't think they'd believe us about the whole... teleporting thing."

"You were at 2fort for a dare, right?" Miss Pauling asked, turning into the hospital car park, "Well, tell them the truth of why you were there. Antonia, you were the only one with him - you guys just need to say that you spooked one of the guards. It was an accident. I'll handle the rest of the story."

Miss Pauling led the group, including the shell-shocked Jacob, into the front entrance of the small hospital. It really wasn't much more than a glorified medical centre, but being a gated community probably meant that they preferred to perform most of their surgeries here.

Miss Pauling stood back as a nurse began fussing over Jacob, nodding when the doctor on duty informed her that he would have to notify the sheriff and that she needed to stay around to give a statement.

The most terrifying part was when she realised she'd have to meet with the parents of the four teenagers. Sheriffs and doctors, she could handle - hysterical parents were the next level of bad, and these parents immediately began fussing over their children more than the nurse had worried over Jacob. She was almost grateful when Sheriff Greene showed up. As if all of the technology surrounding them wasn't already a reminder of her sudden change in time period, the sheriff had to be the final shock to her system.

Sheriff Greene was a man probably somewhere between Scout and Demo's age, with neat brown hair and five-day stubble shadowing his jaw. Instead of a uniform, he wore a plain black shirt and jeans, and a badge dangled from a long chain hanging around his neck. There was no other jewelry, no ornaments, nothing - just a man with a gun on his hip and a badge.

"Miss Pauling, I believe," he said, offering a hand, "Sheriff Adam Greene. Welcome to Teufort, though I wish it were under better circumstances."

"Me too," Miss Pauling admitted, "Jacob's going to be fine - the doctor was just out--"

"He already updated me," Greene told her, "You're from TF Industries, then?"

"What's left of it," she nodded, "First of all, I'd like to apologise for the problems caused by the company's abandoning of the locations--"

"That was a generation ago, Miss Pauling. I doubt you'd have had any hand in the events that used to transpire in those old compounds. What I'm more interested in is what happened tonight."

He was a man who didn't waste time on the past, and Miss Pauling, more than ever, was able to appreciate that at the moment. "Well, recently it was agreed that TF Industries would survey the sites and determine whether they could be used for any purpose other than rotting and rusting. It was agreed that a team of our private contractors would clear out the places at night, so that the survey teams could do their work during the day. Unfortunately, tonight," she gestured, "We didn't expect anyone to be inside any of the compounds, and one of them twitched on the trigger."

"I'm not gonna lie, I'm pissed that these kids still do this," Greene admitted, looking at the teenagers sitting with their parents, "But... They're kids. Abandoned places have always been a major attraction to them, and I'd rather a kid with a buckshot pellet in his arm than a whole group with lead poisoning. The old dare was to camp in the old reservoir," he explained, and Miss Pauling stared at him in shock.

"Sheriff Greene, our contractors are skilled professionals," okay, it was only a half lie - barely half of the mercs were professional in any way. "It was fast reflexes on Jacob's part that saved him, from what our guy tells me."

"Then he's a lucky kid," Greene replied, "Look, Miss Pauling, you're a smart lady - anybody can see that. Those compounds fall outside of my jurisdiction. Nobody died, and a single buckshot pellet is nothing compared to what his ma's gonna give him when he's let out. I'll clamp down on these kids going your way, though - and if your guys find any more, bring them straight back home. Parents around here were young in an era when you don't trust anybody, not even your neighbours, so they're strict as hell. Now, you probably had to drive a while to get here, since nearest civilisation's about an hour away. I can set you up in a motel room before you head back, if you'd like."

Miss Pauling was slightly taken aback by the offer, and found herself smiling despite herself. "Uh, actually there's some accommodation in the compounds. I'd rather get back and keep an eye on the guards, make sure that they're well aware not to shoot first, in future."

"Miss Pauling," Greene grabbed her arm as she turned away, glaring hard at her. His smile was friendly and welcoming, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I insist. You need to get some rest before you go tussling with those guards of yours."

"Oh, uh..." Miss Pauling glanced at the teenagers, then back at Greene, who was still glaring at her. "I... guess I could stay. I'll have to leave in the morning, though,"

"Great," Greene's smile and friendly attitude was back, "Gatekeeper said your car made a funny noise, too. I'll get someone to look over it."

"Oh, no that's fine--"

"I insist, Miss Pauling," he was still smiling, "Can't let a lovely lady like yourself go roaming about in an old tin can that needs a tune-up."

Miss Pauling wondered what exactly she had stumbled into as he turned to speak to the teenagers. She caught the worried look Amber gave her, and looked away. She needed to get back, needed to sort out the mercs. She hadn't exactly been honest with them - as usual - when she had told them Hale and his assistants were the only others to investigate. She could only hope that everyone who had gone searching for the mercs had come out at this other end.

"Miss Pauling?"

Amber had broken away from her parents and approached the older woman. "I... heard the Sheriff is making you stay. How long?"

"Just to rest, Amber," she replied, faking a smile, "I'm sure it'll be fine,"

"Yeah," Amber hesitated, "It's just... usually he can't get newcomers out of here fast enough. Anyway, if you stick around a bit longer, here's my number," she pressed a slip of paper into Miss Pauling's palm, "Me and Antonia can help you research anything you want - it might help you get up to speed on what's going on around here."

Miss Pauling looked at the slip of paper, nodding appreciatively. "I'm sure it'll be fine, Amber. If you want to help, your best bet is to tell others to stay away from the compounds."

"Oh yeah, I was gonna do that anyway," Amber rolled her eyes and waved a hand, "It'll be fine. But anyway, I should get back to my folks,"

Miss Pauling tucked the slip of paper into her pocket.

Greene had a deputy take Miss Pauling to the motel and even walk her to her door, since her car had already been picked up by the mechanic. She had a sinking feeling, as she looked around the room, that she would be staying for longer than a few hours.

Several hours later, she had showered, slept, and eaten the continental breakfast provided by the motel owner. A quick perusal of the television guide had shown that there was a remake of _Ghost D.A._ that had reruns during the day, and she killed another hour watching some talk show with a bizarre, short blonde woman who really loved dancing. Some of the things she said strongly suggested... well, _that_ sort of thing couldn't possibly be so out in the open, could it? Not that she had a problem with it. If girls wanted to date other girls, that was fine, but--

A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts, and she got up, looking through the peep hole first before unlocking the door.

"Sheriff Greene," she smiled brightly, "I hope you're bringing me good news,"

He was still in the black shirt and jeans from the night before, but had shaved. He waved a hand vaguely.

"I hope you got some rest. At the risk of causing offense, you looked like you needed it. I didn't want to mention it at the med centre. D'you mind if I come in?"

Miss Pauling opened the door wider, gesturing for him to enter.

"First of all, your car," he made a low whistle as he entered, "Mechanic's amazed the damn thing's even still running, there's so much wrong with it. The oil doesn't look like it's been changed in over a decade, fuel you were running was more lethal than diesel... I'd reprimand you for driving around my kid in that car if we didn't have something else to address,"

"Your kid?" Miss Pauling asked, "Wait--"

"Jacob," Greene nodded, "His ma and I split up just after he was born, and... well, same story as any other kid with separated parents, I guess. But divorce wasn't all that common in your old locale, was it, Miss Pauling?"

Oh. So he figured it out. Miss Pauling folded her arms and gazed at him coolly. "What gave it away?"

"Your car - 1969 model looking like it just rolled out of long term storage. Your "birth date" doesn't match with the age you supplied - you'd have to be born in 89 to be 27 still. And you look identical to a woman on record from 1972, who was only known as Miss Pauling. Moreover, she was also responsible for handling a group of contractors who did work in those compounds. Folk in this town are a lot smarter than they were in the seventies, Ma'am."

"Yeah, I noticed that," Miss Pauling sighed, gesturing. "Is that why you're keeping me here? Try and draw out the others so you can punish them in some sort of belated justice for something they didn't even realise they were responsible for?"

"What?" Greene laughed genuinely, a deep sound that would have been infectious if Miss Pauling wasn't already nervous. "No, I just didn't want you runnin' away on me before I could ask about it. And god knows you looked exhausted. Still do, if I'm being honest, but I guess that's just a permanent condition when you've got to babysit nine idiots."

"So, I'm not in trouble?" Miss Pauling asked in surprise. Greene shrugged.

"I mean, unless you'd like to be," he offered a small grin, "Look, everyone here knows that weird stuff happened around those compounds. Problem is the lead poisoning got most of the old ones before they really related their stories back. My dad, Sheriff Hood, did a lot to clean this place up and it really helped, but by then the stories about 2fort and the superhuman mercs that lived in those compounds was just ghost stories. Kids didn't pay any mind to them, and they still don't, and camping overnight in those places is seen as a rite of passage or something - but until last night, it never hurt anybody. So, while I'm dying to know how that changed, what I'm more concerned about is how it's gonna affect this town to have TF Industries operating in those compounds again."

Miss Pauling had sat down at the small table, and watched Greene pacing as he spoke. He was a man accustomed to physical activity, didn't like standing in one spot too much, and she found herself drawing parallels between him and some of the mercs. It occurred to her, not for the first time, that she had missed them since their disappearance. After the whole Gray Mann and Australium drama, Fortress were the only mercenaries she'd had to worry about under TF Industries' employment, and she'd spent the better part of a year around them. When they had all disappeared, her own world had suddenly become empty - so empty that she'd actually _looked forward_ to a meeting with Saxton Hale.

Twenty minutes of catching up on events in 2fort last night was no time at all compared to six months of... dare she say it, loneliness.

"Honestly?" Miss Pauling shrugged, "I don't know. I'd like nothing more than for the compounds to stay under the radar, but that's probably not going to be possible in this day and age, is it?"

Greene was shaking his head. "If you really have come directly from 1973, there's a lot you're gonna need to catch up on. Now... I don't really want to send you back out there in your car, and it's gonna take the rest of the day to get sorted out. But I feel like if we keep you here too long, those friends of yours might just come looking. I don't want a shootout on Main Street, so how do you think they'd react to a messenger?"

Miss Pauling tried not to think about the last time the Administrator had sent a messenger to the mercs, and shook her head.

"I wouldn't recommend it," she told him, "But... Maybe, if I could call them--"

"There's a working phone over there?"

"No, but there's a functional conference room that will take video calls," she looked up to see Greene staring at her. "Ever heard of Australium? Most of that place runs on recycled Australium."

"Wait, are you _serious_?" 

Miss Pauling stared at Greene's reaction. "I know it's rare, but--"

"Miss Pauling, the rarity isn't what makes Australium so valuable," he shook his head, pulling out one of those cellular phones, "Look, you're gonna need a crash course in physics and tech to understand the true value of Australium. I'll see what I can do about the video call, but you need to cram about forty years of technological innovation and human advancement into the next couple hours if you're gonna be sticking around."


	4. Ambassador

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, sorry this took me so long to get to! Had a lot of personal stuff going on but hopefully I'll have time to smash out a couple more chapters tonight and tomorrow.
> 
> As always, leave comments with feedback. If you want to see something, let me know.

"Okay, so Google _isn't_ the Internet,"

"Finally," Amber sighed, nodding. They had been going over a basic explanation of the Internet for the past hour, and Miss Pauling was only just beginning to gain a level of understanding about the... well, she could hardly call it a device, since the Internet was more something that connected everything together in the world.

"What about this Chrome?" Miss Pauling asked, "Is it the Internet, or--"

"It's a window through which you can look at the Internet," Antonia explained, "Like a telescope. You enter in your search, and that points it at the stars you want to look at. Then you can pick one of those "stars" - a website - and look at it more closely."

Miss Pauling pulled out the cellular phone Greene had bought for her - waving away her protests with a remark about how she'd pay him back eventually. "And phones are miniature computers?" She asked, staring at the device.

"Basically everything's a computer, these days," Amber nodded, "But everything also has that firewall, which stops you seeing everybody's personal information,"

"What if I wanted to see everybody's personal information?"

"You'd need a _really_ good hacker," Amber replied, "And a good lawyer, in case you get caught."

Miss Pauling thought this over for a few moments, before pulling Amber's laptop towards herself. "So what if I searched up someone who disappeared in 1973?" She asked, hesitating, before typing in a name.

_Sergeant-Barrister Jane Doe_

The results were alarming. Miss Pauling scrolled through the page, reading various headlines that looked all too familiar from local newspapers she had seen. She'd tried so hard to keep evidence of the mercs hidden, but there were pictures, newspaper headlines, even a small online community that appeared to have led a discussion about him.

"A lot of old newspapers put their stories online, along with photos and stuff," Antonia explained, peering over Miss Pauling's shoulder. "Wow, is that the Soldier guy? The really loud one with the rocket launcher?"

"Yeah," Miss Pauling sighed, waving a hand at the screen, "How do we get rid of this? Any evidence of, well, any of us back then, it needs to be removed."

"You can't," Amber shrugged, "Once it's on the Internet, it's there for all of eternity."

"Or until the Internet dies," Antonia agreed, "I mean... you could probably get a hacker to scrub the information, but the good ones are all really expensive and probably not people you should be in contact with."

Miss Pauling sighed heavily. "Okay, well... what if I just keep the guys out of public view? Teufort is the nearest town to the compounds, but I doubt we'd be able to avoid attracting other agencies' attention."

"Oh, hell no," Antonia waved a hand, "The government has such a close eye on almost everything going on, and then there's the CIA and the FBI and State Troopers as well. They mostly leave us alone because Hood and now Greene have good relationships with them, but I doubt that levity would extend to your compounds."

"Great," Miss Pauling sighed, then frowned as the cell phone began to vibrate, buzzing against the table. She snatched it up as it began to play a musical tune, staring at the screen.

"You've got a call," Antonia explained, "Put your finger on the green icon and slide it up,"

Miss Pauling did so, then held the phone to her ear, confused. She'd had the phone for a little over an hour - who would have her number?

"Hello?"

" _Ah, Miss Pauling,_ " Spy's voice sounded clear and if she didn't know better, he sounded almost relieved. " _When you did not return, we grew concerned._ "

"How did you--?"

" _It would seem the Teufort Sheriff understands the danger a group of irate mercenaries pose to the peace of Teufort,_ " Spy replied, adding to someone else, " _You may release him._ "

"Spy, what is going on?" Miss Pauling demanded, keeping her voice low to avoid attracting attention.

" _Hale has arrived, and his assistants and pilot, apparently. And one more person,_ " Spy paused, " _Scout's mother. The teleporter exploded immediately after she came through._ "

"Oh my god," Miss Pauling covered her mouth. Exploding teleporters could cause severe damage to nearby structures, and she hated to think of what kind of damage it could inflict on a human. "Is everyone okay?"

" _A few minor burns and small cuts,_ " Spy explained, " _Scout insisted on taking her to Teufort for medical treatment, and his brothers are coming with him. We were unsure how to warn you of this, but then Sheriff Greene arrived and solved two of our problems._ "

"Wait, the _Sheriff_ is there?"

" _Yes. I am using his communications device,_ "

Miss Pauling groaned. Scout incoming, Greene held presumably hostage, and she wasn't able to get back to 2fort until her car was fixed. "Okay, the Sheriff is a friendly. _Do not_ hurt him, Spy. Don't let the others hurt him, either. My car is getting fixed at the garage, so until Scout shows up, I have no way of getting back there. I need you to keep things under control. Tell me you can do that, Spy,"

" _I presume it would help if we released the Sheriff,_ "

"Almost certainly."

" _We will send him back. How long until the car is fixed?_ "

"Another few hours, apparently,"

" _We will expect your return this evening, then._ "

Miss Pauling sighed in frustration as she pulled the phone away from her ear, looking at the screen. A tap of the red button ended the call.

"Sheriff Greene went out there himself?" Antonia asked, eyes wide, "But... what if they hurt him?"

"They won't," Miss Pauling reassured her, "Well, not now. They might have roughed him up a bit when he showed up. I just hope he doesn't hold it against us."

"I'm pretty sure he likes you, so you can get away with anything so long as nobody innocent gets hurt," Amber reassured her. Miss Pauling stared at her, and she shrugged. "He bought you a phone, Miss Pauling. People don't do that for random strangers they've just met, not even in Teufort."

Miss Pauling realised that she had more to learn than just internet and how valuable Australium really was. Apparently, social customs had also changed significantly in the last forty years.

"Oh, it's Jesse," Amber said excitedly as her phone buzzed. Checking the screen, she grinned. "He wants to go to the arcade. You think you'll be okay?" She asked, looking at Antonia and Miss Pauling. Antonia waved a hand.

"Go for it, enjoy your date."

Amber bade them a hurried goodbye, almost running out of the library as Antonia sighed, looking at Miss Pauling.

"Okay, so do you think you'll be okay with computers?" She asked, "Because if so, you _really_ need to know about this Australium stuff. My sister's study group should be around soon, too, so they can help."

Miss Pauling nodded, looking from her phone to Antonia's laptop. "I think I can learn as I go with the technology. We really need to get to the Medical Centre - someone was hurt at 2fort and is being brought here,"

Miss Pauling had quickly learned that every important building was focused around the centre of town, with the library, medical centre, town hall (including the police station) and high school all on each of the four roads that fed into the square. A variety of stores and food places lined the remaining space, with a large green in the very centre of town and a fountain in the centre of the green.

"There used to be a statue," Miss Pauling remarked as they crossed the square, but Antonia waved a hand.

"Made of lead, yeah. Hood got rid of it, but a replica was made with stone and it's in one of the parks now."

The motel Miss Pauling was staying in was next to the medical centre, with the garage on the other side of the square. As they crossed the road in front of the centre, a familiar-looking car pulled into the emergency bay, two men jumping out before the car had even fully stopped. Miss Pauling broken into a run as Scout climbed out if the car, one of his older brothers carrying his mother.

"Scout - is she okay?" Miss Pauling called out as she reached the bay. Two of the brothers had already raced inside as a police car pulled up behind them. Scout turned to look at Miss Pauling as his third brother raced after the others, tossing the car keys to Scout.

"Huh? Oh--"

" _There he is_!"

Miss Pauling pulled Antonia back as the two deputies sprinted for Scout, catching him in a tackle and pinning him to the ground while one of them snapped handcuffs over his wrist. Scout was yelling painfully as the one pinning him down held his head against the ground, struggling to throw the two men off.

"What's going on?" Miss Ailing demanded, starting forward as the deputies dragged Scout to his knees.

"Ma'am, stay _back_!" One of them warned, holding up a hand to prevent Miss Pauling and Antonia from approaching, "This man is a dangerous, violent criminal."

" _What_?" Miss Pauling glanced at Antonia, who was keeping her distance, before she started forwards again. "Officer, I know this man. He's not dangerous _or_ violent! I'm his employer!"

Scout was being dragged to his feet and shoved none too gently towards the car, while one of the officers turned to Miss Pauling.

"Wait, you _know_ that guy?" He asked, jabbing a thumb in Scout's direction, "Ma'am, he crashed through the town gates after refusing to provide identification or stand for a photo,"

"He wasntweven driving," Miss Pauling told the deputy, who was dressed in plain clothes with a badge similar to Greene's hanging around his neck. "His brother was driving, gave him the keys before going inside. They had a medical emergency, officer," she added, thinking fast. The other deputy was beside the car, forcing Scout into the back seat, and she doubted theyd be willing to let him go even if he wasnt the driver.

 "She's right, Mr Thompson" Antonia spoke up, "He wasn't the one driving - the real guy threw him the keys and ran inside."

The officer, Deputy Thompson, glanced back at his colleague. Miss Pauling was relieved to see Scout hadn't put up too much of a fight while being arrested, ans hoped he wouldn't say or do anything to mess things up.

"You saw them come in, Antonia?" Thompson asked, and Antonia nodded.

"I... actually already met him," she gestured to Scout, "This is Miss Pauling. That man is a contractor from a security firm hired ro clear out those old compounds to the south. Miss Pauling is their supervisor."

"Is that true?" Thompson asked Miss Pauling, who was quietly relieved for Antonia's quick response.

"I was only just made aware," she admitted, "There was an equipment malfunction and the other supervisor on duty was injured. Scout and the boys brought her here as fast as they could."

Thompson turned back to look at his partner, who gave him a barely perceptible shake of the head. With a sinking feeling, Miss Pauling realised what he was about to tell her before he even said anything, and the expression he gave her as he turned back to face her only confirmed this.

"Sorry to say, Ma'am, but we still need to detain the young man for questioning, as he was witness and possibly accessory to wilful destruction of public property."

"We'll also need your other guys to give atatements as well," the other officer stated, giving her a shrug, "I know itsi a pain but we take public safety _very_ importantly in these parts."

"That's interesting," Miss Pauling stated, "Considerig we caught four of your local students trespassing on private property last night - private property with warning signs indicating that they should have kept out, legally TF Industries is now in a position where it can take out a lawsuit against the parents who so irresponsibly allow their kids to hang around such a place."

The deputies both looked clearly uncomfortable at this, and Miss Pauling felt a surge of pride. The threat was up-front enough to be obvious, yet subtle enough that it hadn't _exacrly_ sounded like a threat. She caught sight of Antonia giving her an impressed look, but kept her focus on the situation at hand.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but our hands are tied," the other deputy told her, "If youdylike to meet us at the station, we can further discuss this, but only the Sheriff is allowed to release anyone from custody."

Miss Pauling could have sworn, but he officer looked genuinely apologetic about the situation, so she bit her tongue. "All right," she sighed, "I need to check on my colleague first, and I can ring the driver in with me immediately after that. Do you mind if I have a few words with Scout, first?"

Thompson and the other deputy, whose badge read SUAREZ, exchanged glances .Suarez shrugged.

"We'll let you, but make it quick,"

Miss Pauling crossed to the car and pulled the door beside Scout open.

 

"Heya Miss Pauling!"

He was always happy to see her, but Miss Pauling had never really been able to follow up on that weird half-promise of a date they'd agreed to a few years ago, and she felt awkward about it most of the time since he clearly was still interested in her. Whether she was still interested in him or not was a question to ponder another day.

"Hey Scout," she crouched down, glancing at the deputies, "I need to ask you to do something for me..."


	5. Short Circuit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look! Another update! Lots of explanation in this one, specifically for my personal twist on the respawn hypothesis. Hopefully it's understandable :')
> 
> You know what to do ;)

"Damned machine!"

If the cussing coming from the area Engie was working in wasn't indication enough, he threw his wrench at the panel he'd been trying to pry away, as if in hopes of shattering it, but the iron plating held. _Why_ he'd had to use iron, he wasn't even sure of himself, but the damage was done.

"I thought rusting was supposed to make metal _weaker_ ," Sniper remarked, "Not stronger,"

"Its not the rusting that's the problem," Engie explained, tapping on a section of the plate, "This plate here's a good half-inch thick, and I really!ember threading these holes specifically for these bolts. The heads of the bolts have been shorn off, but the threading keeps them from simply being pulled away from the bolts. Figured back then it's stop anybody else gettin' in and messin' with the wiring, but now it's what's keeping _me_ out."

"What are the odds something's gone wrong, though?" Sniper asked, "Soldier came back himself."

"No offence to Soldier, but he ain't exactly got a brain capacity need worrying about," Engie stated, "Some things this machine does, even I don't fully understand. Technically, we shouldn't have memories when we respawn, since it's just biology. But we do - we remember everything and still think like we always have," he picked up his wrench, tapping on the iron plate, "But this thing, the respawn... If something's gone wrong with it, well it might not show with Soldier, but I'd really hate to see you come back not quite yourself, Sniper."

"Cheers, mate; back atcha," Sniper replied, before looking at the timeslot mechanism, "Weird to think that all these years, nobody's touched any of this stuff. You'd think the government would have come through and cleared this place out, but nah - even me picture frames are still hanging in my room."

"Yeah," Engie was trying not to think about that, "I mean, the bases themselves were always sort of hidden, with security protocols that were advanced even by our standards. So that probably kept most of the base under lock and key."

"Hey, you were saying about the respawn," Sniper mused, "What if instead of dying to test it, we just made duplicates. Total duplicates, none of Medic's fiddling about with genes and stuff."

Engie thought for a moment. Respawn required two things to produce a perfect copy of someone - a biological sample, which was stored on the card representing that team member, and an imprint. The imprint was created by scanning the person, their clothing, tools, weapons, and anything else they might need to carry into combat, and then storing that in the mainframe - which was kept safe behind the iron plate Engie had been struggling to remove. Without an imprint, only a biological duplicate of the person would be created - no memories, very little self-awareness, no speech ability, nothing. They would often become self-awareness over time and could be trained, but they served little purpose beyond canon fodder, really.

The imprint was what made the duplicates _them_. It worked in conjunction with a strange serum Medic had been giving them weekly for their first few years of employment, and if Engie didn't know any better, he would guess it has something to do with Australian - but even he thought that was preposterous. Either way, once they died on the battlefields, the machine would somehow detect their death and recreate them from that moment of death. Most results rooms had been fitted with a small respawn forwarding point, and when the machine detected a death it would recreate the team member and then teleport them to the appropriate results room.

Of course, they had figured out how to exploit this and create duplicates. The first few tries had been unsuccessful, resulting in team members simply teleporting to respawn or "stillborn" duplicates. It had been Medic who had come up with the idea of the "expiring duplicates" - if the respawn detected that the original person was still alive, the duplicate would immediately be given a non-contagious disease. This helped them get around the problem, and had been how they had been able to keep fighting for several years on end, without ever appearing to age.

Engie considered Sniper's suggestion carefully. If the respawn wasn't working properly and they attempted to make perfect duplicates, then in theory it shouldn't work, and they'd have duplicates running about. If it was working, however, they would be prevented by the respawn's "no cloning" mechanism from actually creating duplicates. He just wasn't sure if that prevention would be fatal or not.

"All right," he nodded slowly, "I think that's be our best and easiest bet, but there might be some risks involved. I don't really want to put anybody in danger."

"I'll put my hand up to give it a whack," Sniper offered, "Not much that could go wrong with me."

"You sure?" Engie asked, "There's that possibility of, well, not coming back,"

"Shit happens," Sniper shrugged, "I'm not scared of dying. Already know what's waiting for me on the other side, remember?"

"Well, if you're sure," Engie gestured, "I wanna do this from scratch. Grab one of the blank cards and get some mess on it,"

Engie watched closely as Sniper used a much smaller pocket knife to cut open the fleshy pad on his palm, wiping the blood onto the card before replacing his old card with the new one. Then he stepped into a small, closet-sized attachment beside the main respawn and Engie pressed a couple of the buttons. The scan itself took about ten minutes, and once it was done, Sniper joined Engie next to the control station.

"One evil Sniper clone, comin' right up," Engie stated. He keyed in the sequence for a duplicate on the number pad, purposely entering a zero for the duplicate value - entering a one would infect the duplicate with the disease, while a zero was how they created a manual respawn.

He stepped back as the machine fired up, humming loudly as it took the data, processed it, and turned it into a human. Engie listened for something, anything, that sounded out of place, and felt a rising sense of alarm when he heard a softer, high-pitched whine that shouldn't have been there.

The machine slowed to a stop after about twenty seconds, but the corridor was suddenly filed with a noxious odour that took a moment to identify.

"Cooked rat," Sniper spoke up, "Must've gotten in there recently and died; the machine would've cooked it when it was cooking itself."

"That can't be good," Engie stated with a sigh. He glanced at Sniper, wondering if the duplicate process had worked, but he didn't need to wonder for long.

The door opened and steam - a normal event - billowed out of the room, briefly fogging up Engine's goggles and preventing him from seeing the other Sniper properly. A soft curse from Sniper standing beside him made him hurriedly wipe his goggles and stare.

"Well, aren't you a handsome devil?"

The voice was the same, the accent identical and that joking lilt perfectly matched. Looking him up and down, Engie couldn't see any difference between the real Sniper and the duplicate.

This can't be a good thing, Engie thought to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you don't know what to do, hit that comment button and tell me your thoughts so far and what you think will happen


	6. Family Business

Jaiden was suitably embarrassed about the situation, but it took an exceptional amount of coercion to convince him to accompany Miss Pauling to Town Hall.

Jaicob and Joshua insisted on staying with their mother, and as the deputies hadn't mentioned anything about them, Miss Pauling preferred it that way. The less people she had to convince to lie, the better.

Scout had been placed in the interview room, but the handcuffs hadn't been removed. He looked up as Deputy Thompson opened the door.

"Miss Pauling!"

Thompson had agreed, albeit reluctantly, to allow her to sit in while Scout gave his official statement. She gave Scout a small smile as Thompson gestured for her to take a seat.

"How's my Ma?" He asked, gaining a raised eyebrow from Thompson, who looked at Miss Pauling.

"Mother and son?"

"We've found family units tend to work well together," Miss Pauling lied smoothly, "Scout's mother only recently entered our employment - this was one of her first field assignments."

Scout, though not the brightest bulb, was still quick enough to catch on. "Oh-- yeah, we don't really work together but she came along this time and..."

"She's gonna be fine," Miss Pauling reassured him, "It was only a few burns and a couple of scratches. Nothing too major."

"Thank god," Scot sighed, visibly relaxing. For once, the whole confidence facade had disappeared, but now he was turning almost into the Scout she knew. "Okay so, what'd'ya wanna know?"

Because Miss Pauling had already brought Jaiden in, all that was needed was a "basic statement of events" from Scout - which he happily provided in great detail, with some embellishments that both Thompson and Miss Pauling pulled him up on. All in all, it took about thirty minutes, and Thompson happily unlocked the handcuffs once they were done - provided Scout didn't leave the station.

"This other lad of yours is a bit different," Thompson told Miss Pauling, while she was filling out the release form for Scout, "Willful destruction of public property usually carries a hefty sentence for locals - it's up to the Sheriff to judge how he's gonna be dealt with, though."

Miss Pauling glanced at Jaiden, who was sitting in the Sheriff's office, looking very much like a teenager waiting for the school principal to hand down judgement. "What would we be looking at?"

"Best case scenario, he pays for repairs and completes some community service. Worst case? Probably go before a judge, but I don't think it'll be that extreme. And doc's already gotten back to us about the lady - there's no exemptions for medical emergencies, but it does lessen the sentence, especially if they've got a good record otherwise."

"He's probably the goody-two-shoes out of all us," Scout insisted, "Never got into fights in school, even went to college. We were just worried about our Ma, but she's gonna be okay."

"That's good to hear," Thompson nodded, "Now, I just gotta get y'all to hang around until the Sheriff gets back. He said he was heading out of town but didn't plan to be too long."

"Did you see the Sheriff before you left?" Miss Pauling asked Scout as they took a couple of seats in the corner. He shrugged.

"I think we passed a car heading here but Jay was goin' too fast, so I didn't see what type of car it was."

"Just let me do the talking, okay?" Miss Pauling checked the clock on the wall, then pulled out the cellphone, wondering if she could somehow retrace the last number that had called her and speak to Sheriff Greene. "If he left right when he was supposed to, he shouldn't be too far away."

"What's that?" Scout asked, looking at the phone, "Where'd you get it?"

"Huh? Oh," she turned the device over in her hands, "The Sheriff gave it to me. It's what they use as phones nowadays,"

She didn't catch the shadow that seemed to cross Scout's face. "So you've met the Sheriff, huh?"

"He seems nice," she admitted, "Professional, and figured out what's really going on almost immediately. He's very young, too - I'd have expected someone older to be in his role, honestly. I don't think he's much older than us."

"Huh," Scout, for once, seemed to have nothing to say - a very rare occasion but not unwelcome, Miss Pauling decided.

It wasn't much longer before Greene returned, and the receptionist gasped as soon as he walked in, making a big deal out of the cut on his cheekbone and split lip. He waved her and the curious Deputy Suarez away, insisting it was nothing as Thompson filled him in on events. Miss Pauling figured waiting a few moments before presenting herself and Scout was advisable, but he grinned as soon as he noticed them in the corner.

"Hey, Miss Pauling," he gestured, glancing back at his office, "Come on through; bring your friend."

Miss Pauling led Scout into the Sheriff's office while he held the door for them. Jaiden was already seated in one of the two chairs in front of the desk, and Scout gestured for Miss Pauling to take the other one as Greene moved around behind his desk. Some papers were nearly piled on one corner, and what looked like a modern computer sat at the other end, which he quickly looked at, typing something on the keyboard before looking at the others.

"Miss Pauling has already gotten me up to speed on most of your situation, boys," he explained, "So, I'm sure you're aware a lot has changed in the past forty-odd years. One thing that hasn't, though, is damaging public property."

"It was an emergency, Sheriff," Jaiden stated, "Our Ma was hurt, we didn't know how bad but we didn't wanna take any chances, and your gatekeeper was bein' an ass about letting us in--"

"It's his job to be an ass," Greene interrupted, "Boys, this town has been to hell and back, so we take security very seriously around here. The only reason your boss got in without any problems was she was carrying a local kid who was injured, and the three other kids vouched for her." He waved a hand at Miss Pauling as he spoke, and she felt Jaiden and Scout's eyes on her. "If you'd been straightforward with the gatekeeper, he would have arranged paramedics to meet you at the gate and we wouldn't be in this situation. I know you come from a different time, but there's ways of doing things around here, and those ways were made for a reason."

"You're right," Jaiden was nodding, "I didn't mean to come in here being all disrespectful, but... I was worried. She's my Ma; I don't like seeing her hurt."

Greene looked steadily at Jaiden, then at Scout, before sighing. "I can't fault that, I guess. All right - it's Jaiden, right?" He looked at the computer, typing something in, "Well, obviously I _am_ gonna have to hand down some sort of punishment. But considering your situation, I'm also gonna see what we can do to help you." He sat down in his chair and pulled a sheet of paper from one of the trays on his desk. "You're gonna be staying in Teufort for a while, Jaiden, and working with one of our tradesmen to pay back the damage costs for the gate. You'll be working with him however long it takes you to pay things off, and your wage will cover accommodation, food, and any other expenses you rack up. I'm not trying to scare you when I say this, but if you'd pulled that stunt anywhere else in this country, you'd have ended up with anything from a jail sentence to a bullet in the head."

Scout had been standing behind Miss Pauling's chair, and started forwards at Greene's statement. "Wait, really? They shoot people just for a bit of damage?"

"Sad to say, but a lot of cops aren't the most friendly," Greene explained, "Some are paranoid, what with war and terrorism and the shootings. That's why Teufort still has closed gates - there's a lot of people out there who'll cause a lot of problems if we let 'em in." He hesitated, looking the three over as a look of realisation crossed his face. "Oh shit," he muttered, "You guys wouldn't even _know_..."

"Know what?" Miss Pauling asked. Greene sighed heavily, looking down at his desk for a moment before shaking his head.

"I'm not the best at reciting history, Miss," he shrugged, "Well, there was the Vietnam War first of all. Then the Berlin Wall came down in 1989, Desert Storm in the early nineties, the Gulf War in the late nineties, nine-eleven which was probably the biggest and worst event, then we've technically been at war since 2001 over in the Middle East."

"What was nine-eleven?" Jaiden asked. Greene gave him a sad look.

"You know the World Trade Center? I think it would've been finished before you lot showed up," he watched as the three of them nodded, "Well, September 11th, 2001, some bastards flew planes into them, brought both towers down and killed a lot of people in the process. Same group also had someone put a third plane into the Pentagon. It was... the worst terrorism attack in the history of the world."

Miss Pauling and the boys sat stunned for a moment, taking in this information. She had once been offered a job in the World Trade Centre, but had turned it down because the man offering it had always seemed too sleazy for her liking. "But... how does a plane make a tower that tall, that strong, collapse? I thought they were built to withstand anything?"

"There's a lot of questions surrounding the whole thing, even sixteen years on," Greene admitted, "Sensible folks have been trying to answer them, but a lot of people aren't listening. Look," he sighed, glancing at the door, "I've got a town to run, and some things to sort out for you," he nodded at Jaiden, "So we're gonna need to wrap this up. Jaiden, you stay close to your mom and I'll have a deputy show you where you'll be staying. Jeremy, you and your brothers are welcome to stay, or free to go as you wish, but stop at the gate when you pass it. Your mom, from the report I've just been sent, will be staying here for a couple days, so if you want to stick together, you'll have to work something out."

"You still have your bank here, right?" Scout asked, "Same one that was here in the seventies?"

Greene chuckled. "That was the only thing the rogues _couldn't_ get their hands on. You got savings there?"

Scout was grinning. "A whole vault full of them! Do I gotta show ID or anything to collect it? They needed it at the gate,"

Greene was smiling slightly as he grabbed another piece of paper from a separate tray, writing furiously. "No, I'll sort you out for that, for now at least. Here," he held the paper out for Scout, "Show this to the bank manager when you go to collect - I'll send her a message now so that she knows to expect you. Now, if you guys don't mind, I'd like a word with Miss Pauling in private,"

"Wait for me outside," Miss Pauling told them, before making sure Scout was looking directly at her and speaking very clearly. "Don't go anywhere."

He saluted her with a small grin, before following Jaiden out of the room. Miss Pauling turned back to see Greene was watching her carefully. The cut on his cheek was clearly from a knife, but it was mostly hidden by a bruise that surrounded it, and the split had been bleeding, but he must have cleaned himself up before returning to Teufort. A fainter bruise was beginning to form just above his right eye, and it was evident he'd been in a fight of some sort - Miss Pauling was just relieved to see he was back in one piece.

"I warned you not to go out there," she told him, and he chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

"You sound like my ex-wife," he told her with a lopsided grin, "I tried asking everyone I knew in town, but nobody had the equipment to video call your base. I went out there looking for them, got met with a bunch of shotguns in my face once I passed the gate. Soon as I mentioned I was the one who had kept you here, a couple of them went from hostile to, well," he gestured to his face, "But it's fine. Do me a favour, though - keep that Soldier one away from here. Kept asking if he was allowed to start breaking my fingers to get me to "talk"."

Miss Pauling frowned, staring at Greene. "Really? He's never displayed signs of sadism before. Maybe psychopath, but never an actual sadist."

Greene shrugged. "I'll tell you what, though, you sure know how to pick 'em. And they do their job effectively."

"I wouldn't know about "effectively", but they do their jobs," Miss Pauling commented, "So, you needed to talk to me?"

"Yeah, about a couple things. First of all, you can't scratch your ass in this country without ID these days, and not a single one of your guys has anything to prove they are who they say they are. Here in Teufort, that's easy enough to get around - all I need to do is write up something like I did for your friend. But really, the only reason we get away with that is we're a closed community. State and Feds don't interfere here unless we call it in, and I have to be the one to call it in if it needs that. But I get the feeling your guys will want to go roaming about, so they're gonna need a way to prove they are who they say they are,"

"I guess all this war and... what did you call it? Terrorism? I guess it changed a lot more than New York's skyline," Miss Pauling remarked with a sigh. "Okay, so how do you suggest we go about all of it?"

"I might have a way around that," Greene admitted, "We take registrations for births, deaths and marriages register, and because of what this place used to be, it isn't unusual for us to come across entire families that haven't ever been registered and don't even know that it needs to be done. We can submit some of your people through that, over a few weeks to a few months, get them all registered. They'll get a birth certificate and a social security number, and they can use that to get licenses, identification, and to buy things like phones," he gestured to his own phone, which he had left on the desk, "I can start with those boys that were here today, and yourself - once we start the process, you're on your way to officially being a recognised human in this country."

The offer sounded good. Too good. "You're being so helpful," Miss Pauling pointed out, "There's got to be something you're expecting in return. Nobody does this much for total strangers, not for free."

Greene glanced away, grimacing slightly, and she was able to read that expression. He wanted to say something, but didn't want to press an advantage. She wondered if he realised that, being the Sheriff (and apparently also the Mayor of this town), he basically had the power to put her and the mercenaries in lockup, even, as he said, bring the feds in. She guessed that meant federal police.

"It's two things, actually," Greene finally admitted, turning back to her, "Teufort mostly survives on itself, but there's some things we have to get brought in. Some things that cost us a lot to bring in, and while the kids here are mad enough to go out on adventures that would get them shot, those with licences who can actually bring in such things, aren't as much a group of risk-takers. We just need people who can do a supply run for us. A few times a week, bringing in food and other things that we can't otherwise grow here ourselves." He caught her expression and shook his heaf before she even voiced her question. "No smuggling, it's all perfectly legal. We just don't buy enough from big suppliers to be on the main route, so it costs us extra to get them to take a detour. It's all legal and we can sort it out ourselves, we just need someone to go out there and collect it, bring it back."

Miss Pauling nodded slowly. "Well, considering the situation, I don't think we have much else of a choice, and I've seen these guys get restless from doing nothing; it's best that we actually give them something, even something as simple as a delivery run, to keep them distracted." She looked down at her hands, having been twisting them in her lap for a few moments out of nervousness. This guy seemed easy to please; maybe she could swindle a whole heap of other things out of him by playing her cards right. "What was the other thing?"

"Have dinner with me."

It took Miss Pauling a few moments for his words to sink in, and she kept staring at him blankly even after that, slightly in shock. She recollected herself, blinking furiously. "You... you want to--"

"You're a smart lady, Miss Pauling," he remarked, "I honestly do hope that our correspondence continues, and continues to be positive, but I'm also good at reading people. You don't drop that professionalism, not when there's work to be done. So, take a night off and we'll go out for dinner." He gave her a slight smile, "Doesn't have to be romantic; I just figured it'd be nice if we could hang out together. Friends."

Miss Pauling almost breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that he wasn't suggesting anything romantic. Even if he was, she probably wouldn't even notice, in all honesty - she was good at reading people, but awful at reading "the signs" when it came to romance. She had somehow stumbled her way into exactly one "date", and that had been interrupted mostly by her own panic and obliviousness, and a giant bread monster thing. It had, however, been one of her more eventful days at work before the whole Gray Mann robots thing.

"Uh, sure, I guess," she shrugged, unable to help smiling back a little, "I... don't actually know what kind of schedule I have though, so it might be difficult to plan for,"

"You've got a phone, you've got my private number," Greene was also smiling, "When you've got a night off, give me a call and we can work something out. There's an arcade and bowling alley here, and a small cinema. You missed out on Space Invaders and Donkey Kong."

Half of the words he was saying barely made any sense to Miss Pauling, but she liked the sound of it anyway. She nodded, unable to help herself smile. "Sure. I guess it's a date, then!"

She was still smiling as she exited Town Hall to find Scout and Jaiden waiting at the foot of the steps. They both turned to her expectantly, and Scout waved at the building.

"What did he want?" He asked.

"Giving us something to do until we figure out the rest of the world," Miss Pauling replied, looking at Jaiden. "You don't have to come with us if you don't want to. Sheriff Greene did say you should wait with your mother,"

"Jer said he might need some help to carry the savings," Jaiden replied, waving a hand, "Bank's just up the road here, so I can park the car right in front if you guys want to get the money,"

Miss Pauling turned to Scout, "You _have_ told him how you saved your money, haven't you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Motivate a starving writer today! Leave a comment with your thoughts (good, bad, ideas you'd like to see, anything is good) ;)


	7. Dead Ringer

"It really is fascinating," Medic remarked, "I'd love to study more into this. Do you think it would be possible to recreate the experiment?"

"No way," Engie shook his head, folding his arms, "I'm not risking anyone else's hide. As soon as I can get that panel off, I'm fixing that thing."

He and both Snipers had been in Medic's laboratory when someone had tripped the alarm Engie had set up near Respawn. He and the original Sniper had rushed down to find Soldier had already created two duplicates of himself, for some mundane task Spy had set him, and that both duplicates were attacking the original Soldier.

One of them was now dead, thankfully, and the other had reluctantly returned to Medic's lab. A brain scan on both the Sniper copy and Soldier copy had revealed disturbing evidence - certain brain tissues or fluids had formed improperly in both, and Medic had theorised that the deficiency in the Sniper, and imbalance in the Soldier, had led to an inability to feel pain and a potential aggressive personality disorder, respectively.

Of course, Soldier was already known to be an overly aggressive person, but his clone had actually seemed to _enjoy_ seeing his original injured from their scuffle. Engie was no medical expert, but he was prepared to guess at what Medic refused to admit - Soldier's clone was showing all the signs of being a psychopath.

And if respawn was churning out psychopathic Soldiers, Engie didn't even want to think about what it would do with personalities like Scout and Spy, who were both different degrees of sociopath.

"Nobody goes near respawn," he said, enunciating his words very clarly, "If anybody is injured, Medic, you _need_ to fix them up. Until I can get into that panel and figure out what's gone wrong, nobody is to go anywhere near that thing, and nobody is to die."

"We can handle mortality all right," Sniper agreed, "But we should get this news out to everybody before anything else happens. If it's messing with brains, the last thing we need is an idiot Heavy or and even more insane Pyro."

"In Pyro's case, it might make him normal," Engie admitted with a chuckle, but he completely understood where Sniper was coming from. "I've already got signs all over the doors. Soldier's the only one who can't read at all, and Scout's still in Teufort."

"We'll have to update Miss Pauling," Medic stated, "And Mr Hale. Also, what are we to do about these ones?" He gestured to the Soldier and Sniper duplicates. Sniper waved a hand.

"You can probably kill mine off," he stated, "He knows as well as I do that only the original gets to live on."

"Putting them down's probably the best thing for them," Engie agreed. He could see Medic was itching to experiment with the pair, but he was worried any sort of trauma might cause either of them to go wild and even hurt the Doc - and with Respawn down, if Doc was hurt then they were all screwed. "You could probably use their organs for something, seeing as they're in such good nick."

"That seems fair," Medic shrugged. Engie waited for Sniper to lead the way, following after him while mentally working out what he'd have to do to fix respawn. They would have to update Spy first, and then get word to the others - but that would be easy, since almost everybody else was aware that respawn might be down.

"So, evil clones," Sniper remarked. Engie couldn't help himself, chuckling slightly.

"I wasn't gonna say it, but you hit the nail on the head," he agreed, "This was one thing we could do without; but I'm sure Doc can handle putting two of us to sleep forever."

"Yeah," Sniper thought for a moment, "Imagine how handy that'd be, though - not being able to feel pain. Maybe Medic could do something that'd cause that for me, but on a smaller scale of course."

"That's brave of you," Engie remarked, "I wouldn't want him tinkering with my brain."

Spy was dubious of the severity of the situation, as Engie had expected him to be, but agreed that "further damage to the brains of morons", as he so kindly put it, was inadvisable. After that, Engie and Sniper split up to spread word faster. Spy had volunteered to keep an eye on Medic to ensure the procedure was carried out, and though Engie felt like something wasn't right, he let Spy go anyway.

It wasn't until he got Heavy's assistance and returned to respawn that he realised this was a bad idea. The screen for the control panel had a timed delay on when it went into standby, and Engie knew he had left it more than thirty minutes ago - which meant someone had used it in the past thirty minutes. The only logical answer he could come up with was Spy - he'd checked in on Medic to find him still running further tests on the two clones, and everyone else had already been accounted for.

"The sooner we get this fixed, the better," Engie told Heavy. He had found a chisel in an old carpentry set, and dug the bevel edge under the edge of the plate, until it was wedged in firmly. A few taps on the handle elicited nothing more than bent metal, which Engie had anticipated. The smell of whatever had died inside was stronger, and as he stepped aside to let Heavy swing the mallet, he wondered what exactly Spy had done - and _why_ he had ignored warnings so readily. Spy wasn't much of a risk-taker, so he must have assumed the benefit was worth the risk itself.

The first corner came loose with the first hammer strike, and Heavy quickly jammed the chisel in beneath the second top screw, breaking the panel away from the wall enough that he could grab it. Engie handled a crowbar, trying to wedge the bottom half open, while Heavy relied on brute strength to peel away the top half.

"Is hard work," Heavy grunted as another screw came loose, "But we will win."

"You got that right," Engie pushed all his weight against the crowbar, and with a loud snapping sound, the final two screws came loose and the panel hit the ground with a loud clang. Smoke billowed out from the inside, and both Heavy and Engie stepped back, furiously waving the noxious smoke away from their faces.

"Hoo-ey," Engie exclaimed, peering into the wiring. The well-cooked remains of a small rat lay across several of the large wires, which had been crossed presumably by the traffic of at least one (now dead) rat. Engie groaned once he saw the coloured insulators for the wires, and reached in to tug one of them out. "Rat's been chewing on 'em," he explained to Heavy, "The coloured covering's supposed to prevent the signal from jumping between wires, but these bastards," he pulled the remains of the rat out and tossed it onto the floor in disgust, "Have been chewing on 'em and the wires got crossed. Not sure exactly how that affects something so small as brain chemicals, but it does. I'll have to fix up this wiring," he sighed, "But until then, we gotta make sure nobody touches this thing."

"Everyone knows," Heavy stated, "Nobody will touch respawn."

"I wish you were right," Engie sighed, lifting the warped panel up and fitting it over the hole again, "But we can't take any chances. I'm gonna have to seal off this corridor. Lucky for us, this is a dead end, so we won't have to give up access to anything except the BLU base - and I doubt we'll find much over there that we don't already have here."

"I will find barriers," Heavy volunteered, "We put them at entrance to corridor. Heavy ones, so small men cannot move easily."

"I'll see what I can do about shutting this thing off for the time being," Engie stated, "I'll have to clock everyone out, though, or else we'll end up with more clones when the system reboots."

Heavy nodded, lumbering off as Engie stood staring at the dead rat, tilting his head to one side. Strange, how such a little thing could cause so much trouble. Strange, too, that one little change in the brain could turn someone into, well, a totally different version of themselves. Engie wondered what it would do to him if he tried the same trick - would he come out more intelligent, reckless, or quieter, maybe less able to understand simple processes.

He bent down to pick up the crowbar he had discarded on the ground. They'd swapped weapons once, the whole team, and Demo had commented how unwieldy it had been to swing around a wrench. Engie hadn't fully realised how different he was to the others in muscle build until that day - most of them had upper arm strength, but all of his arm strength was in his forearms and joints. Demo, so used to swinging swords from the shoulder, had been throwing himself off-balance by using the same technique with the head-heavy wrench.

It had also explained why Engie had been so awful at using Scout's baseball bat to try and attack their opponents - another weapon that swung from the shoulders.

Idly, he wondered how Scout was doing at that moment. He felt bad for what had happened to the boy's mother - it _had_ been his teleporter, after all. Hell, he blamed himself for this entire predicament. But the injuries hadn't looked _too_ bad, even to his inexperienced Texan eyes. And Miss Pauling was still in town, but that Sheriff had said she'd probably be there until tonight sometime. Engie had to admit he could appreciate the Sheriff for making the trip out to the base, just to tell them their teammate was safe and well. A true gentleman, he figured.

Almost as if time hadn't even passed, Engie suddenly found himself slumped against the wall, a familiar but slightly off humming sound seemingly surrounding him and a dull pain throbbing in the back of his head. Blearily, he opened his eyes and looked up to see a shadowed figure moving in front of the door to respawn. His vision was blurred, and it took a few moments of blinking for his eyes to refocus, spotting the figure as the door opened.

"Spy - what in hell do you think you're doing?"

He must have been hit over the head pretty hard, because his words were slurred horribly and his body wasn't responding as it should. He looked up again to see himself stepping out of the room, Spy smirking as he greeted the clone.

"Spy - what in hell do you think you're doing?"

The tone, the words, even the inflections were identical to the phrase Engie himself had just tried to say. He watched as his clone crouched in front of him, snapping his fingers in front of Engie's eyes.

"How hard did you hit him?" The other Engie demanded, "Better hope you didn't cause any damage."

"I assure you, he will be fine," Spy remarked, "If you are so concerned, perhaps accompany him to see Medic."

"Hell naw, I ain't leaving you alone with this thing, not when it's playing around like it is," the second Engie waved a hand, "You take him, and tell Medic all about how you ignored our instructions."

"We need respawn back online," Spy said insistently, "And we need to return to our own time. One Engineer couldn't figure it out - but perhaps two can. Even Medic was in agreement - two heads are better than one."

"That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard, and I've listened to some of Soldier's idiocy for hours on end. Did you even hear..."

Engie felt himself fading out, but tried to shake it, forcing himself to sit up. His clone was still crouched beside him, one hand on his shoulder, and Engie felt his head spinning as he forced himself upright.

"Easy there, son. You copped a hard knock to the head, but at least it's better than a backstab,"

" _Please_ , I would not backstab anybody with respawn in the condition it currently is in,"

"Then why did you insist on cloning us?" The other Engineer shook his head, looping an arm around Engie's back and dragging him to a standing position. Engie felt like he was gonna be sick, but managed to stave off the feeling as his clone started half-carrying, half-dragging him down the corridor. He was faintly aware of the clone and Spy talking, but whatever Spy had done to him had knocked his head around enough that he was struggling not to pass out again. It felt like an eternity before they reached the lab, and then Engie was so out of it he was convinced he was seeing double - he was facing not one but _two_ Medics, both grinning at him identically as they pushed their glasses up the bridge of their nose.

The words "doppelganger", "clone", and "sociopath" were thrown about a lot, along with other mental disorders that Engie was too tired to focus on. He distinctly remembered Medic telling him he had a concussion, and Spy being told off by both Medic and Engie's twin, who for the most part seemed normal.

"You rest up, Engie," his clone told him gently, "Doc's checked me out, looks like pulling that rat did the trick, but I'll keep working on it just to be sure. I've got a bad feeling about all of this."

The clone watched as his forebear slipped into unconsciousness, looking at Medic uncertainly. "You're sure he'll be all right?" 

"Oh, ja! Just a skull fracture, though it was really too bad that it was in such a position. The base of the skull is very weak; it's really quite lucky he didn't break his neck!"

Engineer sighed heavily, looking at the other Engie before turning to look at Spy. "Respawn's down and you could've killed him. Happy?"

"We have a full team," Spy shrugged, "All that remains is the Scout, and it would not be too difficult to create an affected replica."

"Why on earth would you even _want_ that?" Engineer demanded, "A team full of psychopaths and sadists, mentally unstable-- _more_ unstable, than most of the team already is? What in hell can you possibly do with that?"

"Simple," Spy replied, straightening his tie. He had already changed into a blue suit, to differentiate himself from the original, but even if he hadn't the difference was clear. "The best team will win; and if we are unhindered by such emotional baggage, we will be unstoppable."

"We're not _in_ any battles yet, Spy! We might not even _be_ in any battles for a while," Engineer turned to Medic, gesturing, "All right, what's wrong with him, then?"

"I think it could be a form of post-traumatic stress that has him locked in the mentality of a warzone," Medic replied, "Much like Soldier, but less of a, er, demented worldview."

"We cannot fight until there are the full teams," Spy insisted, "I have already instructed the others to move into our base--"

"The _others_?" Engineer demanded, " _How many others, Spy_?"

Spy shrugged nonchanlantly, pulling out a cigarette. "Oh, all of them. As I said, we are only missing the Scout now - but I'm sure he will be amenable once he returns."

"To hell he will!" Engineer snapped, taking a step towards Spy, "I won't be lettin' anybody near that respawn until the damn thing's fixed. And those clones need to be destroyed before they start causing any more trouble than we need right now."

"Wait, but--" Medic's clone was watching them uncertainly, "If respawn is fixed, what is preventing us from returning as we would in typical battle? We are not duplicates. We will not simply die out once the rest of the team has been clocked out."

Engineer swore loudly, turning away. "We'll figure something out. Might just be as simple as clocking them out and then--"

"Methodically putting a bullet in the skulls of each of them," Spy waved a hand, "Yes, we are all well aware of the fate that lies before those of us born through the respawn machine. And what exactly do you plan to tell them when such a time comes? "Apologies, gentlemen, you are not original enough to be worthy of living", hm? Something to that effect, I am sure."

"Since when did you get all humanitarian?" Engineer demanded, "We have a job to do, we do the job, Spy. That's what it's always been, and respawn was only there to make sure the original selves don't die. Replacing people ain't like replacing parts, Spy."

"It is a tool for us to use as we see fit," Spy stated, "There has always been RED and BLU, and there will always be RED and BLU; I am only ensuring the legacy continues. _You_ , however, are insisting on killing men who have not yet even attempted to harm you."

"He does have a point," the cloned Medic spoke up, "Nobody asked if we wanted to die. Once we are created independently of our original selves, we are our own human beings. We should be given the choice over whether we should die or not."

Engineer couldn't believe what he was hearing. They all knew that the purpose of duplicates was to alleviate the tension, fill up team numbers, and occasionally get tasks around the bases done in less time. Never before had they ever even tried to argue against their short life expectancy, and he was proud to say that not a single one of his duplicates had ever fought what they knew was inevitable. But... he thought about it for a moment, looking back at Engie, unconscious on one of the beds Medic kept in his wing. Maybe his duplicates had never been scared because they'd never considered the alternative, living out another day or two, or even an entire lifetime. And as much as he didn't want to admit, such an idea sounded appealing to him, too. He still had all the memories of, well, his forebear, but he was a whole new person, really.

"All we want is to live," Spy said carefully, "Perhaps that is not what you wish for yourself, but that is your own decision and it is not up to us to force you to change your mind."

"No, I," Engineer hesitated, "I see where you're comin' from." He turned to look at Spy and the two Medics, "You said you just needed Scout? Once we've got him, I'll get to work on respawn. But you're right - we should be allowed that choice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... turned out to be more existential than I planned but I don't think that's a bad thing? Ehhh, let me know your thoughts.


	8. Diamondback

It took Miss Pauling five minutes longer than she would have liked to figure out how to use the phone again, and even then, Amber wasn't answering. After the whole dinner invitation from Sheriff Greene, Miss Pauling was reluctant to solicit him for any further information, and asking anybody else in town was likely to raise suspicious questions.

With nothing else to do, Miss Pauling had returned to the mechanics to check up on the car, and the manager, a friendly older gentleman named Bill Boston, had offered to let her use the computer in the office. Personal computers was still a foreign concept to Miss Pauling, but she had already seen two teenagers with the slimmer, portable personal computers called laptops, so she was warming to the idea. Once again, it took her a few minutes longer than she would have liked, but eventually she figured out how to work the Chrome and where to ask this "Google" her question.

_Where can I sell Tom Jones memorabilia?_

The first result, Antonia had told her, was often the most accurate, and the first result for her search was on a website called eBay. Miss Pauling followed the hyperlink, looking at the website, and her eyes widened as she saw some of the dollar values attached to the products.

"Oh lordy, not another lady discoverin' eBay,"

Bill's voice made her jump in surprise, and she spun around to see him standing in the doorway, looking at the computer screen.

"Is there something wrong with it?" She asked. Bill shook his head, chuckling as he pulled off a pair of grease-stained gloves.

"Not if you got unlimited credit," he reassured her, "But if you don't, and you ain't got a high-enough paid job, I wouldn't recommend buyin' anythin' off it. Gets too addictive,"

"Oh, I'm not buying," Miss Pauling replied, unable to help smiling. Bill, it was easy to see, was one of the friendlier people in town, and he had volunteered to replace some old parts of the car at no extra charge, just to make sure she was driving about safely. It was easy to see why he and Sheriff Greene seemed to get along well. "I'm looking to sell some things. Well, a friend is looking to sell some things."

"Either way, you're gonna need a credit card," Bill told her, "And if you ain't got an account, you'll need one of those as well. Actually, I think Claire at the post office runs a small online store, she could probably get you better prices for whatever you're selling, since she has specialised buyers."

"Online store?" Miss Pauling repeated, "You mean, like a shop, but... on the Internet?"

Billy nodded, smiling again. "It's incredible, ain't it? Thirty years back, we didn't have none of these things, but now you don't even need to leave your house to get everything you need. She'll probably be lockin' up soon, but I can give her a call and ask her to wait. What exactly are you trying to sell?"

"Uh..." Miss Pauling hesitated. It had been forty-five years since Tom Jones had died, and she wasn't even sure if Teufort locals would even know who he was. But Scout's "savings" needed to be converted into cash, and the only way that could be done was to sell off almost all of the memorabilia he'd kept in the Teufort vaults. "It's just some memorabilia from a musician, he died in the early 70s. Tom Jones,"

Billy's thick eyebrows shot up, almost meshing with his greying hairline. "You've got Tom Jones memorabilia? Is it authentic?"

Miss Pauling shrugged. "Well, it was bought when he was alive, kept in storage until, well, today. A lot of it is still in the original packaging."

Billy looked like he was about to have a heart attack, and he stared at Miss Pauling for what felt like an eternity before pulling his phone out of a pocket. "I'll get onto Claire right away. She deals in antiques and memorabilia, and she can give you a better idea on value than eBay."

Claire, Miss Pauling learned, was a young woman with dyed silver hair and something called "contacts" that made her eyes look purple, and a borderline ridiculous amount of bangles on her arms that jingled musically as she moved about. For good measure, Miss Pauling took a few items with her, which Claire had agreed to assess. As she looked over one of the framed and autographed pictures, she gave a low whistle.

"You sure you wanna part with this?" She asked, gesturing to the things Miss Pauling had brought over. Scout had already selected two or three things to keep for himself, being such a big Tom Jones fan, and had, albeit reluctantly, agreed to entrust the rest to Miss Pauling, who would sell on whatever she could.

"There's a lot more," Miss Pauling informed Claire, "I was looking at some of the prices on eBay, but--"

"Pah! eBay users don't know shit about valuing," Claire waved a hand, "I mean, I'll easily be able to sell a lot of this on, especially the autographed stuff, but considering its value, are you sure you don't want to hold onto it for another five years? Once it reaches fifty years since his death, you know it'll hit market peak."

"We need the money," Miss Pauling admitted, "There was a... recent incident, and we've found ourselves low on finances. We're hoping this will be enough to sort us out, at least for the time being."

"Lady, I don't know what rock you've been livin' under, but what you've brought me here alone is worth close to five thousand dollars, just on immediate sell. Put this in an auction and you could make up to ten grand on these five things alone."

MIss Pauling stared at her in shock. " _Seriously_?"

"Ye-huh. I mean, this vinyl is one of about fifty in the world," she picked up one of the vinyls Scout had completely disregarded in his consideration, "It's worth about six hundred alone, plus mint condition, _and_ the autograph? I could sell it at two grand before anybody tried to call it a rip-off. This banner? Fabric fades over time, but this is still in perfect condition, with original colours and all. I could hock that for a grand on a slow day." Claire was shaking her head, "Say what you like about his music, the guy was seriously influential and popular to boot. If you've got more of these rare things, lady, you're sittin' on a goldmine,"

Miss Pauling was dubious, but decided to give the woman the benefit of the doubt, at least for now. She waved to the laptop Claire had kept running after Billy's call. "I want to know how this whole... Online store thing works. Can you show me?"

"Hell yeah, I can," Claire grinned, jerking her head to indicate Miss Pauling join her. "You want me to start hockin' some of this stuff now? I can show you how it works from this end, at least."

"Go ahead,"

Claire used her phone to take several pictures of the smaller framed, autographed photo of Tom Jones in a recording studio, and then... Miss Pauling tried to follow what she did, but the woman moved too fast. Windows appeared on the screen and then suddenly the pictures were there on the website the laptop had been open to. _Claire's Collectibles_ was splayed across the top of the page, and another bit of typing from Claire posted text with the photos.

_It's a special day for all you Tom Jones lovers out there - we have an original, framed and autographed photo of the late legend at his recording session for "She's A Lady" in 1971. This is strictly limited and we currently have only the one in stock, so if you're a fan of the man himself, get a bid in before 7pm MST. No limits on bids, and the prize goes to the highest bidder. Good luck!_

"That also sends out an email to all the subscribers," Claire explained, "And a text message to all the store members. It'll also automatically update the Facebook page, Twitter, and the Instagram, so we reach those who don't even get our emails. Social media has made online marketing _so_ much easier. Wanna get something to eat?"

"Don't we have to watch this?" Miss Pauling asked, "In case something goes wrong?"

"Nah, I got the updates on my phone. C'mon, you look like you haven't eaten anything since breakfast."

Miss Pauling reluctantly allowed Claire to drag her out of the post office, locking the door behind them, and followed her next door to a small cafe where they both sat down, ordering a small entree-sized meal each and drinks to match.

"Everyone around here is so friendly," Miss Pauling stated after the waitress had brought them their drinks, "I'm still trying to figure out why,"

"Money only gets you so far around here," Claire stated, waving a hand, "Kids have been encouraged since preschool to set up little vegetable gardens in their back yards, and basically anyone who finishes sophomore can get some sort of work. The place used to be poor as anything but with literally every house producing their own fruit and vegetables, plus local farmers supplying what we can't grow in our own yards, we don't really need to buy in any fresh produce. That's where most money goes, for other towns - bringing in fresh produce. Everything else can be stored for a while, but that's the stuff that costs the most to bring in."

"But, Billy's fixing my car basically for free," Miss Pauling pointed out.

"Billy's an old-fashioned gentleman, like a lot of the older guys around here. He's probably getting paid by _someone_ , but he's the type that won't let a car leave his workshop if he didn't trust it to carry his pregnant daughter to county hospital. And Sheriff Greene cares a lot about this town and the safety of the people here, but that doesn't mean he'll turn away strangers in need of help - he'll just watch them real close. So, you've got nothing to worry about, Miss Pauling," Claire waved a hand, "Folks around here look out for each other, like they used to way back when. It's only a small town, after all."

The food was nice, but it started Miss Pauling worrying about another thing - what were the boys doing for food back at base? Surely they wouldn't try to eat forty-year-old tinned foods, right? She made a mental note to stop at the small supermarket and get... well, anything edible. She might have to talk to someone about maybe supplying the base with food, especially if they ended up staying a while.

She wondered if Engie was having any luck with respawn - the sooner that was back up and running, the better.

Miss Pauling and Claire returned to the post office close to the end of the timeframe, and even Claire was impressed at the bid on the photograph.

"Four hundred and ninety-eight dollars," she read the figure aloud before giving another low whistle, "That's more than twice the maximum I was expecting. See, you gotta time your auctions right, especially the flash ones," she explained, "Most people will be home by now, surfing the internet out of boredom or intentionally browsing for specific things. Post something like this and you catch their attention at the right time, and take advantage of that boredom. Oh look, it just went up to five hundred,"

Miss Pauling watched as the numbers on the timer ticked down, while the bids kept jumping up, and in the final ten minutes there appeared to be a frenzy, with the bid constantly changing. At exactly seven o'clock, a new window appeared on the screen.

_Thank you for bidding! The auction has now been closed._

"Final bid got in with half a second to spare," Claire informed Miss Pauling, "Grand total is seven hundred and forty-five dollars."

"All for one photograph?" Miss Pauling could have laughed. Seven hundred dollars was a lot of money, by anyone's standards. She could almost buy an entirely new car for that much, surely? "Okay, so what happens now?"

"Well, now I contact the highest bidder and tell them they were successful," Claire explained, "And then we get their address. Working here really helps, because I can package this up and send it off first thing Monday morning, and use my employee discount to get cheaper shipping. Since the bidder was a member, the payment is automatically taken off their card so there's no fiddling around, and I can transfer it straight to you right now or sneak onto the machine and get you the cash out, whichever you prefer,"

"Would it be too much trouble to take the cash?" Miss Pauling asked, "We're in a really tight spot and I have to get food to take back with me, and..." she sighed heavily, thinking of everything she had to sort out, as well as the forty minute drive back to the base. Good thing she actually got some sleep, because she had a feeling it would be a rare commodity once she made it back. She wondered if she'd ever get the chance to take Greene up on his offer.

Claire had gone to the main counter and was crouched down behind it, fiddling with something. Miss Pauling stayed where she was, watching the website as comments from other people began flooding in asking about more Tom Jones memorabilia.

For once, one of Scout's borderline crazy ideas had actually paid off - literally.

"Okay, so that's seven hundred dollars," Claire counted out the notes on the counter, "If you don't mind, I'll keep the forty-five as commission - usually it's ten percent, but so long as you promise me you'll let me sell those," she nodded her head at the other four items, "I'm sure we can work out something more beneficial for you."

"That sounds fair," Miss Pauling agreed, accepting the money Claire handed over, "I really should get going - Billy said the car was almost done when I was there earlier, and I'm hoping to get home tonight."

"You drive safe out there," Claire said with a concerned frown, 'There's been some talk of some... unpleasant sorts in the area. Corporate thugs. Apparently they roughed up the Sheriff for no reason,"

Small town rumours still flew fast, Miss Pauling realised. "They're mine," she admitted, "And I warned him last night not to go out there. They're not really used to sheriffs poking around, thought he was a civilian who wanted an excuse for trespassing. I'll be having words with them, though,"

Claire's expression had changed to impressed when Miss Pauling had claimed the mercenaries, and she smirked as she nodded slowly. "Looks like you can take care of yourself better than I thought. Just make sure you keep those hounds on a leash - nobody around here wants any trouble."

"So long as they stay out of the compounds, nobody around here will get any trouble," Miss Pauling reassured her, "I'll make sure of it myself."

They agreed to meet up on Monday and run another piece, see what they could get for it. Realising that Miss Pauling was new to smartphones, Claire showed her how to add contacts and use the phonebook, recognising Greene's number and saving it for her, along with her own number, Billy the Mechanic's, and the medical centre's number, claiming that they were the essential four.

Billy was sitting out the front with one of the young apprentices, having a beer as Miss Pauling returned, and he grinned as he recognised her. The car had been fixed, washed, polished, even had the tank filled. The whole thing looked like new, and Miss Pauling had to admit she was impressed with the amount of care Billy had taken.

"Well, I've got a daughter," he told her, "And I always ask myself, would I like if my daughter was driving this car? No? Then what do I gotta do to make it good enough? Usually gets me motivated. We're all someone's kid, so it's good for us to remember that and treat everyone like we'd want others to treat our own kids. You drive safe, Missy, and if you've got any other cars that need fixin', just drop 'em by."

The medical centre was next, and Miss Pauling was quickly directed to the room where Jacob, the boy that had been injured, was resting, presenting him with flowers, candy, and a card she had hurriedly picked up from the small shop in the front section of the centre. The nurse told her that he was only being kept in because the doctors wanted to be certain he would be fine, having been out in the old compounds - a lot of people were still dubious about the safety of the old buildings even before "gun-toting madmen" had returned to them. Miss Pauling was happy to dispel the new rumour she heard, lying effortlessly to cover not only her own backside but also the mercs' standing in the town.

She didn't expect to see Spy, however, lingering outside Scout's mother's room.

"I thought I told you to keep things under control at the base?" She demanded, "What are you even doing here? This would be a great way to tell Scout, wouldn't it?"

"Things there are perfectly in order," Spy told her, "I would not simply abandon post for no reason. I ensured everyone was taking care of things there, left the Engineer and Medic in charge, and came directly here."

"How did you even get in?" Miss Pauling rolled her eyes as soon as the words were out of her mouth. "You cloaked. Of course."

"A logical tactical maneuvre on my part. I see the mademoiselle is doing well, surrounded by her... oafish sons,"

"One of those sons took out the gate to get her here," Miss Pauling told him, "And one of the others is also yours--"

Spy gave her a look that chilled her to the core, and Miss Pauling stepped back. They had discussed such things together before, and he had _never_ reacted with that look, not even when she had threatened to reveal his identity. No matter what she said, Spy was also a professional and also understood that sometimes, you needed to use what leverage you had. But the look he had just given her was so icy and cold that for possibly the second time since meeting him, she had actually been afraid, even for the briefest of moments. It was a look that reminded her that he knew over a hundred ways to kill a person with bare hands, before disappearing from existence.

She cleared her throat nervously as he turned his attention back to the room.

"I'm going back soon," she told him, "I'm probably going to take Scout with me. You need to come back as well - a lot of things have changed, and I'd rather not have to repeat myself with explaining a lot of the things."

"There is a second car that was taken from the base," Spy replied coolly, "I will return in that."

Truth be told, Miss Pauling didn't relish the idea of a forty minute drive with Scout and Spy squabbling at each other. In fact, she wasn't looking forward to a forty minute drive with Scout at all - he talked way too much, though it was something he was apparently trying to work on, and she saw through his constant bragging, even more so now that she had witnessed where he apparently stood in the heirarchy of his brothers.

Passing Spy, she hesitantly knocked on the door, offering her warmest smile to the four brothers and their mother, who looked tired but managed a smile back.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Miss Pauling stated, "But, I'm heading back to base, and I need Sco-- Jeremy to come with me."

"Can't you give him the night off?" One of the other three asked, "Our Ma's in hospital; she nearly _died_ from your faulty machinery,"

"Joshua, it's fine," Scout's mother waved a hand as Scout reluctantly stood up. "You go, sweetie. I'll be right here, and that nice man said I can stay with Jaiden while he's doing his service, so you'll know where to find me,"

"While we're, well..." Miss Pauling gestured, "Still trying to get our bearings, I'm sure we can arrange for him to come visit you frequently."

"That'd be nice," she smiled at Miss Pauling, before Scout leaned over and hugged her tightly. It was touching, really, to see the mother-son bond Scout shared with his mother, and Miss Pauling made a mental note to bring Scout in every time she had to come visit Claire. The eighty minutes of chatter might be unbearable, but she could grit her teeth through it if it meant giving Scout the time with his family.

This event had reminded her just how important family was. Unfortunately for her, the only people she had ever considered family were forty years in the past.


	9. Detonator

The sun had dipped below the horizon when Miss Pauling and Scout finally returned to RED base, and Demo, Pyro, and Heavy greeted them at the gate and helped to carry in the bags of groceries she and Scout had stopped off to buy on their way out of town.

Of course, there was also beer, and Miss Pauling kept an eagle eye on Demo to make sure he didn't steal both cartons.

"Good to see you back safely, Miss Pauling," Engie, wearing blue, thumped her gently on the back, "I won't lie, a few of us were worried about you, but I figured you'd be all right."

"How did you go with Respawn?" She asked. Engie exchanged a glance with Medic, before adjusting his hard hat.

"Well, turns out a rat got into the wires and got cooked for its efforts. Somethin' else you should probably know, when we were running diagnostics, I... well, I made a clone of Sniper. Except there was somethin' slightly wrong with the clone."

"I thought it couldn't make clones?" Miss Pauling demanded, following Engie deeper into the base and leaving Scout and Demo to finish unpacking the bags.

"They've got personal computers, now," Scout explained excitedly, "And these things called cell phones, which are just like normal telephones but without cords and they're tiny little flat things with screens and they can do way more than make calls, now. Miss Pauling let me use hers while we were driving back and you can get games on it to play and there was even something called a... _YouTube_ ," he said slowly, struggling to recall the name. It was no secret that Scout struggled to read, and Demo had always wondered why a kid who had - somehow - gotten almost the full way through high school could be so bad at reading.

"Ya think we'll all get to use one?" Demo asked, Scout's excitement almost infectious. Scout nodded fervently.

"Oh yeah, sure! Tell ya what, next time I go to Teufort, I'll get one for you as well! We probably should have one here anyway, in case that Sheriff needs to get in contact or anybody else. Hey - did I tell ya how my brother broke their gate down cos the gate guy was being an ass?"

Someone cleared their throat loudly, and Demo and Scout both looked up to see Medic grinning at them.

"Scout! I didn't get a chance to give you a check-up this morning," he said gleefully. Scout sensed something was off almost immediately, and looked at Demo.

"Ah, we all did it," he told Scout, waving a hand, "It's just to make sure nothin' went wrong when we teleported through."

"You should probably check out my brothers, too," Scout told Medic, dumping the last of the dry pasta in one of the cupboards, "And my Ma."

"I have already told Miss Pauling that they should ask the Teufort doctors to perform checkups," Medic stated brightly, "Given the situation, I... would prefer if civilians were not inside my laboratory."

"Seems fair," Scout shrugged, "Okay, let's do this,"

He followed Medic down a flight of stairs and into the underground area of the base, into the medical wing. Medic was silent, listening to Scout describing some of the machines he had seen at the hospital that he figured Medic would be interested in.

"Where're we going, Doc?" Scout asked as they passed the main lab. Medic had a handful of laboratories, but he really only used one for actual medical practice - the others, Scout guessed, were just Frankenstein vaults. He felt the sense of unease again, and it only increased as they went deeper, beyond the medical wing, beyond anything. "Wait, only Respawn is down here - we can't use that, Miss Pauling said it might be damaged,"

"It is fine," Medic reassured him, "All I will be doing is scanning you, as my scanner has gone offline for some reason. Obviously, the data is transferable as both the imprint scanner and medical scanner use the same technology, so I will be able to use the readouts from the Respawn imprinter to see how your health is."

"Doc, I don't wanna go near it," Scout admitted, his steps faltering, "Even Engie said it was broken."

"The only danger will come from attempting to create a duplicate," Medic told him, "Trust me, Scout - I'm a doctor!"

He gave another of those grins, one hand wrapping around Scout's arm and pulling him along behind. Scout would never admit it out loud, but he didn't entirely trust Medic sometimes. On the battlefield, he was great, but outside... some of the guy's experiments could get kinda dark, and maybe it was narcissism but Scout hated seeing his duplicates being experimented on by the older male. He tried to avoid duplicating altogether, since it would only end in death, and he wasn't a fan of dying or watching his others die.

His anxiety only grew when Scout saw Spy waiting for them outside Respawn, dressed in blue, and that was when he realised Medic had also switched into his BLU uniform.

"Welcome, Scout," Spy remarked, grinning broadly with a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. It was a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, and Scout felt the pit of his stomach drop as he recognised it - Spy only ever looked at his future victims like that.

"What's going on, Spy?" Scout asked, trying to force more bravado into his voice. When had it gotten so dark down here? And was it always this creepy? "Look, I'm only here for Medic to give me a check-up, so I'd appreciate if you could, y'know, piss off or something,"

He hadn't meant for his voice to shake that tiny little bit. C'mon, Scout, it's just Medic and Spy - you've fought both of them heaps of times, and if they try anything, you can take them both or even just run. You're still faster than both of them, right?

"Spy has been... assisting me," Medic claimed, giving Scout a small shove towards the closet-sized imprinter. "Go on, Scout, I will be right here,"

Something else struck Scout at that moment, and he looked around. When it was powered down, Respawn was silent - it only gave off that humming noise when it was preparing to be used. He glanced over to see that the screen was set to lines of codes, and his stomach knotted itself again.

"Doc, what's goin' on?" He asked, looking at Medic. The German gave him an impatient look, muttering something in German before roughly shoving him towards the imprinter.

"Just get in so we can get this over with!"

Medic was never like that; he was always patient, relaxed and easygoing. He only ever yelled when they were sliding back on team assignments, not quite completing their objectives. Scout whirled around, protest already forming on his tongue, and found himself facing not just Medic but also Spy - and a quick glance told him that Spy had drawn his knife.

"Always with a protest, always with an argument," Spy said, advancing. Scout had become totally aware that he wasn't carrying his weapons, and took a step back, raising his hands. There was an almost manic glint in Spy's eyes as he grinned coldly at Scout, backing him up against the wall.

"Whoa, look, okay - Spy, I think you're getting a bit carried away here," he said in his best placatory tone, "I don't know what's going on, but--"

"You will see," Spy reassured him, before grabbing his shoulder roughly and shoving him into the imprinter. Scout yelped in surprise as he tripped over his own feet, and the back of his skull cracked against the back wall of the room as Spy slammed the door shut. Scout lunged forwards as he heard the respawn booting up, thumping on the door. There was a long list of things he hated, and tight, enclosed spaces was one of them - Spy knew that, too.

" _Lemme out_!" He heard his cry sound almost hysterical, but his imagination was flooded with a million different things that could go wrong here, and he felt his breath coming in shorter gasps. "Spy, please! C'mon, lemme out, _please_! I swear I won't be a jerk at you for a whole week!"

He could hear the machine humming as it took his imprint, then the humming increased in pitch and volume and surrounded him, filling his ears. There were a few other sounds that he was certain weren't meant to be there, too, and Scout tried to force away the mental image of the machine exploding with him inside part of it. He knew he was screaming, but the tightness in his chest was worse, and all he could think of was his Ma and brothers that last time he'd seen them and thinking that he'd die in here and never see them and the noise was everywhere and--

He stumbled forwards, hitting the ground hard as the door was released. Choking out a couple of sobs, Scout felt his entire body shaking and realised his cheeks were wet. The humming sound was gone, and he focused on taking deep, even breaths, on calming himself down.

"Wow, was I always that weak?"

That voice... Scout focused on trying to catch his breath, before he looked up at the trio in front of him. Spy was smirking cruelly, and Scout suddenly felt he was back on the battlefield, facing down a team of enemies who all wanted nothing more than to see him dead. Medic was grinning, somehow looking more sinister and evil than he usually did when he grinned. But it was Scout's twin that drew his focus. He stood with arms folded, gazing down at Scout coldly, a look of distaste warping his features.

Scout took a few more moments to gather himself, before standing up to face the trio. There was no real point to acting brave - they'd seen him crying already - but he could try to salvage himself, at the very least.

"What the hell is this all about?" He demanded, "Why couldn't you just use the old info if all you wanted to do was make a twin? What was with the whole Psycho schtick?"

"Apologies for frightening you," Spy said smoothly, "Medic had a theory he wished to test out, and for successful results we needed you to be extremely uncomfortable and, dare I say it, afraid."

"Yeah, well, you got that," Scout spat at him in irritation. He looked at his twin, who was still glaring at him coolly. "What's the big idea? What do you need him for, anyway?"

"Completing a set," Medic shrugged, "The war will continue. Scout - meet your match,"

"He looks weak," the other Scout said, looking at Spy, "Are you sure we're even the same person? Coming from this thing is almost an embarrassment,"

"Hey, you watch it," Scout snapped, "I was the first one here, you got it? So whenever they're done with whatever little experiment they're running, you're history,"

Spy bristled at that comment, but Scout barely paid attention, his clone's grin irritating him more than ever.

"We'll see," the other Scout replied. Footsteps could be heard approaching, and Spy and Medic looked at each other.

"I'd swear you to secrecy, but I feel it is futile," Spy remarked, "Until next time, RED Scout,"

The lights in the corridor flickered on as the trio passed him, hot-footing it for the BLU end of the corridor. Scout stared after them for a moment, brain working hard to try and catch up with... whatever was happening.

"Scout? What in hell are you doin' hangin' around here?"

Scout whirled around to see Engie wearing his red shirt and carrying his toolbox. Scout stared at him for a moment, before remembering--

"What happened to your blue shirt?" He asked. Engie huffed slightly, as if in surprise, and looked at his shirt.

"I wasn't wearin' one, Scout," he stated, then hesitated, "Hold on a darn second - where did you see me in a blue shirt?"

"Outside. You were talking to Miss Pauling while Demo and I were putting away some shopping," Scout glanced back over his shoulder, before looking back at Engie. "There's... BLU Spy and Medic just sort of... forced me into the imprinter--"

"Aw _hell_!" Engie exclaimed, leaping up and typing fast at the console. He swore loudly as he looked at the logs of past users, before staring at the list. Scout peered over his shoulder, looking at the text on the screen. He only just barely understood the strings of numbers, but even he felt uneasy when he read them, his brain able to figure out what exactly it meant for them.

"Spy made a copy of himself," Engie stated, "And that copy made a second Medic. The Medic cloned everyone in the team except for me and you - he got me then," he tapped the second line, "Damn near broke my skull to get me unconscious because he knew I'd never go in willingly. Then you came along, too."

"They said they were doing an experiment," Scout told him, "They... Spy, mostly, but he scared the shit outta me, threatened me at knifepoint and everything, locked me in there,"

Engie frowned, looking at the log, before sighing and shaking his head. "I don't know what they're doing, Scout, but I don't like it. Either way, they've got a full team, and with this thing down, when it boots back up it's gonna recognise them as individuals, so we can't get rid of them."

"How would it do that?" Scout frowned, "They're exact copies, aren't they?"

"Nope," Engie sighed, shutting off the power to the system. The humming died down as he moved over to the slots containing their punch cards, "Something went wrong with the wiring, and the clones it's churning out are, well... not the kind of people you want to meet down a dark alley late at night. Psychopaths, sadists. The Sniper double has no pain threshold. Honestly, I just hope they stay in BLU base for the time being, until we can figure out what to do about them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm just... not sure if anybody is reading at this point. I might hold off on updates for a bit, seeing as nobody seems to be liking where this is headed or is even really acknowledging the thing. Idk. We'll see.


	10. Launcher

Saxton Hale was _not_ impressed.

"It's all well and good to keep _these_ idiots locked up here," he told her, waving a hand at the mercs who were seated around the table, "But I'm a businessman, Miss Pauling, and I have a business to run!"

"That business was taken over when you disappeared, Mr Hale," Miss Pauling sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. "It's owned and run by Olivia Mann, now - and it's completely different to what it used to be!"

"Mining, yeah, I know," Hale snapped, "That company's been in my family for three generations, and I'll be damned if I let some snotty brat keep her claws dug into it long after her expiration date!"

"Whoa now, Mr Hale," Engie stepped between the arguing pair, facing Hale. He wasn't the only one that had been getting tense with the way the Australian had been speaking to Miss Pauling, and had decided to step in before anybody else decided to cause further problems. "I understand that it's gotta be difficult, watchin' your empire being so different from what it used to be. Nobody's gonna argue with you on that one. But we need to make sure you're a legal person before you can go off taking Mann Co back."

"More than that, we need to re-hash our agreement," Miss Pauling stated, "Obviously, things have changed, and we can't keep relying on the charity of strangers to support this place and ourselves."

"Obviously once I get Mann Co back, you'll go back to working for me,"

"Amusing, that you would choose to employ _idiots_ to act as your personal army, Mr Hale," Spy remarked, "What is stopping us from taking Mann Co back ourselves? Why let an oafish brute so quick to dismiss natural talents simply because the men who possess them are not university graduates or bloodthirsty psychopaths, be the one to take charge simply because he was fortunate enough to be born into wealth and power?"

Miss Pauling felt a surge of satisfaction at Hale's scowl. It wasn't often that anybody could catch the man off-guard or even insult him and live to tell the tale, but Spy had apparently succeeded in both - so far. She watched as his eyes scanned the other mercs, who were all wearing disapproving looks, and felt another surge of satisfaction as he sat down again.

Nine against one. Not good odds, even for Saxton Hale.

"I want my company back, Miss Pauling," he said, "And once I've got it back, we can work out some sort of agreement."

"That's not how this is gonna go down, Saxton." Miss Pauling stood up, facing the man, "We'll help you get Mann Co back, but only if you agree to help us get TF Industries back, _and_ we settle back into our original agreement."

Hale glared at Miss Pauling, who met his gaze steadily. The tension between them was thick enough that everyone in the room was watching them carefully, ready to draw weapons if need be. Then Hale chuckled, shaking his head resignedly.

"Damn, still got that moxie about you. Alright, fine. You help me get Mann Co, and I'll help you get your company back," Hale nodded, "And then, we can discuss the old partnership."

Miss Pauling relaxed, sitting down again and grabbing the laptop she had bought at Teufort's electronics store (and had been shown how to use by Claire and her partner (Miss Pauling was still trying to come to terms with the fact girls dating girls was apparently such a normal thing, not that there was anything _wrong_ with it, necessarily, but... (Focus, Pauling))). Claire had, while auctioning off some of the other items, shown her how to handle the phone and use it to create a hotspot, which kept her connected to the Internet, and Miss Pauling pulled up the website called Google Maps.

"Billy in town said he's happy to help us out with a couple of our vans," she explained, "So I was thinking, seeing as Engie's working on the systems in the base, I'll get Billy to do those so we have some vehicles for moving everybody about as needed. Engie, how's respawn doing?"

Engie had been sitting next to Miss Pauling, and grimaced as she addressed him. "Well, the good news is, we can respawn," he told the group, smiling at the relieved reactions, "The bad news? That's _all_ we can do. Creating duplicates requires just a tiny bit of Australium, but those clones burned through the last reserves and we can't spare enough from the power supplies to replace even a fraction of it. Also, Benj and I looked it over and it's exactly what I was worried about - it recognises the clones as individuals, but since we share biological blueprints, while we're clocked in, so are they - and that means, we can't kill them unless we clock out ourselves."

"Then what are we waitin' for?" Demo cried, "Clock out and sneak in there at night, a few well-placed bombs and the whole place goes up in smoke, and them with it!"

"It's not that simple, Demo," Miss Pauling told him, "These buildings have been reinforced to withstand nuclear detonations. You can't just blow them up, not with anything we have in stock,"

Pyro made a suggestion, but Miss Pauling shook her head, thumping a fist on the table.

"Guys, these buildings were _designed_ to be _literally indestructible_. The only way you could destroy them is if you managed to dig out a section beneath them, fill it with fifty payload bombs, and then blow it sky-high."

"Well, we could do that, couldn't we?" Scout asked, "Sneak a bunch'a carts into the mines way underneath the base, then set 'em off-- what?"

Miss Pauling was staring at him. Though he wasn't the best at... well, a lot of things, really, one thing that Scout was good at, and _known_ to be good at, was remembering areas. He could memorise a complex map in just a few minutes, and could always remember directions and layouts of places. Engie had once said that Scout only needed to look around a place once and would have the whole thing memorised before he'd even finished. So when he talked about secret tunnels, Miss Pauling listened up.

"There are no tunnels beneath BLU base," Heavy told him, "You speak nonsense."

"No, they're there! They run all the way from those blocked-off shafts in the dustbowl, near those first two cap points

"Scout," Miss Pauling waved a hand at him, "Where else do they go?"

Scout shrugged, "Uh, I know that they all sorta end up in this one big space under the north end of BLU base. There's another shaft that leads off further north, but I didn't have time to check it out."

"There is no guarantee the shafts are still clear," Spy pointed out, "It has been forty-four years since anybody even looked down there."

"Okay, well," Miss Pauling thought for a moment, "First thing tomorrow, Soldier, Demo, Heavy; I want you guys to check out those shafts and if there's any sort of blockages, try and clear them out. Scout, go with them - _but you're working as a team_ ," she emphasised, knowing full well what was most likely to happen.

"Miss Pauling," one of Hale's assistants cleared his throat to draw her attention, and Miss Pauling looked over at the shorter, fatter of the pair. "Jerry and I completed a simple survey on the airfield not too far south-east of here, and found some of the aircraft was in salvageable condition. It was an idea that Mr Hale, myself and Bidwell, and Jerry could use one of those to get to Phoenix and infiltrate Mann Co headquarters."

"Excellent idea, I'm all for it!" Hale boomed, thumping a fist on the table, but Miss Pauling was hesitant. She cast a glance at Engie.

"Have you ever worked on aircraft before?" She asked, "Would you be able to make sure one of them could fly?"

"I have a little experience," Engie nodded, "Enough to know how to get one runnin'."

"All right, Engie, Pyro and I will go to the airfield with Saxton and... Jerry?" She asked, receiving a nod from Reddy and Hale, "Reddy, Bidwell, you guys stay here with Spy, Sniper and Medic."

"I want Reddy and Bidwell with me," Hale stated, "If that plane's ready to fly tomorrow, I don't want to waste any time running back and forth between bases."

Miss Pauling sighed heavily. "Fine. Saxton and his entourage will go with me, Engie, Pyro and Sniper. Medic, Spy, you guys stay here and just... don't let BLU get into this base. Last thing we need is them causing problems."

"Should we begin planting bombs if these tunnels are clear?" Heavy asked. Miss Pauling thought for a moment, shaking her head.

"Like I said, it'd take a nuclear missile to destroy it from above ground, and if they converge at the northern end, you'd need to place them in there very carefully, in exactly the right spot. Saxton?"

"Yeah?" Hale had been looking at one of the pieces of paper Miss Pauling had printed out from the Teufort library, giving details about Mann Co's past forty years of activity.

"Once you take Mann Co back, do you think you could send us some heavy explosives?"

Hale thought for a moment, before nodding. "Sure thing. They're in mining now, shouldn't be too hard to rustle up some explosives and send it down here,"

"Okay," Miss Pauling nodded to herself, "In that case, is there anybody you think you'd need to come with you to sort out Mann Co? We do have an agreement, after all."

"Yeah, actually," Hale pointed at Sniper, "The runt Aussie. I could use your sniper skills, especially if we have trouble getting into the building."

Sniper put a hand to his chest. "Me? What can I do? I don't get in the middle of the fight,"

"Exactly. I need someone who can pick birds off from a distance. And that one," he pointed to Demo, "You could probably help, too. Can you only lob grenades and build bombs, or can you fight like a man?"

"Oh aye, if it's a fistfight you're lookin' for, I'll be right in the thick of it," Demo admitted. Miss Pauling sighed heavily.

"Okay then. Here's the setup - Soldier, Pyro, Scout and Heavy, you go clear those shafts and make sure they're stable enough to plant explosives. Demo, Sniper, Engie and I will go to the airfield with Saxton and his entourage - and if any of you can handle weapons, let me know _before_ we leave. Spy, Medic, it's up to you guys to make sure this place is secure. _No sneaking off_!" She added firmly, fixing Spy with a stern glare, "Every group needs at least one phone and everyone needs to keep a radio on them _at all times_. We might have respawn back, but that doesn't mean we're safe just yet. Spy, I suggest keeping a close eye on respawn to make sure nobody gets clocked out, at least for now."

"Of course," Spy inclined his head, "And what do we plan to do if these shafts are clear and we can position a bomb beneath the BLU base?"

"We will destroy all of the BLUs, of course!" Soldier insisted, smashing a fist into the palm of his other hand, "And with them gone, we can focus on more important tasks!"

Miss Pauling cast a glance at Hale, sighing. Well, they were lucky they'd gotten this far in without an interruption from Soldier. "We need to make sure that we _do_ destroy all the BLUs when we do that, though," she pointed out, "As it is, we don't even know if those mine shafts are still clear, and we don't have the explosives. First priority is get Saxton back to Mann Co," she turned to him, "No offence, but you're a lot more help to us there than here."

"None taken. I agree."

"So, everybody knows what they have to do tomorrow?" Miss Pauling asked, looking at the nine mercenaries in particular, waiting for each of them to give an affirmative. "Alright. I'll make sure all the cell phones and radios are charged up tonight and ready to go. Mineshafts crew, you need to be heading off by sunrise - try not to be seen by BLU."

Spy waited until everybody had left the room and it was just Miss Pauling and Hale remaining. He could feel the blade tucked into his sleeve, and he was itching to bury it in someone's back, but he was still in enemy territory, and although he was fast, either one of these potential targets was capable of fighting back if need be. Moreover, Miss Pauling was... well, important. She was the key to their freedom, the one who could call off the RED mercs.

He slipped out through the open door, checking the charge on his cloaking as he hurried silently back along corridors, slipping down the single long passage that connected the two bases. Two respawn machines had been a near-impossible task in the early days, so the passage between bases had been built and Respawn built at exactly the halfway point. Spy didn't relax until he was past it, and thankfully he still had charge left on his cloaking. Best to save it, though.

He de-cloaked, running the last hundred yards to the BLU base, almost bowling into Scout and Engie.

"Your suspicions were accurate," he told Scout, "They are planning to use the mine shafts beneath, perhaps create a collapse that drags the base in with it."

"We need to figure out somewhere to move to, then," Engineer had insisted on being nicknamed "Benji", after the nickname his BLU duplicates had often taken in the past to help differentiate them from the true Engie. He still had his reservations about all that was happening, but didn't have any way he could let out these feelings - so he had taken to hanging around the two most concerning players in the team and trying to keep them from derailing. "We should start moving as soon as possible, so that we can get everything of value out of here and to a newer location."

"We should try and stop them," Scout snapped, "If they think they can destroy us here, who's to say they won't try at another base? Or another? Or another? No - we need to put a stop to their plan."

"They do not have the weaponry to cause enough damage to bring this base down," Spy pointed out, "They are expecting Saxton Hale to provide them with the explosives they will need. He is likely scheduled to be leaving on a spare plane left at the airfield, tomorrow sometime."

"We stop that plane," Scout told the other two, "Stop it by any means necessary. If Hale gets his company back, he'll be able to drop nukes on us himself, never mind what the REDs and Pauling are planning."

"Scout, Hale's a civilian,"

"He's a threat," Scout said coldly, "What do we do with threats? We neutralise 'em. If that means killing Hale and his stupid lackeys, we do it."

Benji looked at Spy, hoping for some sort of support, but the proud grin the man was giving Scout told him he wasn't going to find any support there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay yeah no, I'm just... not feeling it. The spark to share this has kinda faded and that really sucks but ah well, it happens.
> 
> Next chapter won't be posted until this gets ten comments. Share it around to your friends and whatnot, get people reading it. Ten comments for the next chapter - and if we never reach it then, well... sadface, I guess.


	11. Scottish Resistance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda ehhh on this but whatever. And yes, I know I said I wouldn't update until there were ten comments but it's Easter and I'm in a "fuck it" mood.
> 
> Note: Pinna is the outer part of your ear, the bit you can see and get pierced for the sake of looking cool. Yes, wombat's fart is an expression Australians use.

Not for the first time, Demoman wished he could get paid in beer.

Obviously, sobriety was important in his line of work, but sobriety could only do so much for you, and a little bit of alcohol not only helped his hands steady themselves, but also helped him cope with the fact that, put simply, he worked with a bunch of dickheads.

Moreover, he also worked _for_ another dickhead on occasion, and this was soon to become one of those occasions.

Demo was _not_ looking forward to it.

"These gates should have been closed," Miss Pauling noted as the van transferred from bumpy dirt track to smooth asphalt.

"Looks like we might be able to expect a welcoming party," Engie agreed, looking in the rearview mirror, "I hope you boys are locked and loaded,"

"Ready to go, mate," Sniper affirmed, checking his submachine gun. He had left the Razorback behind because, apparently, he wasn't anticipating any spies preparing to backstab him, and Demo prayed he was right in that regard. Last thing he wanted was to be the only merc dragged off with some other psycho Australian to try and help him take over Mann Co.

Because, apparently, Australians have a different concept of sanity.

The van pulled up and Demo and Sniper climbed out of the back, both quickly covering Hale's entourage as they exited their own vehicle. Reddy had equipped himself with a pistol, and Hale was well-known for his fistfighting prowess. Miss Pauling and Engie both carried shotguns, and covered the front half.

"We're expecting company," she told Hale, "Those gates should have been closed and locked, and those vehicles over there weren't here earlier,"

As a precaution, she and Sniper had checked the place out just before dawn, after dropping off the other team at the dustbowl. What had originally seemed to Demo like a waste of time was probably about to prove invaluable, once he thought about it. At least they now knew they could probably expect company.

"If we skirt around the terminal, avoid going inside at all, we might be able to avoid any sort of confrontation," Engie suggested, but Demo and Sniper were already shaking their heads. Demo gestured to the space between the two-storey building that served as the terminal, and the nearest of the three hangars.

"Easiest way would be through there, and it looks like a perfect chokepoint to pick us off from," he stated, "Easy enough t'defend. Maybe splitting into smaller teams can get 'em on the run."

"I hate to say it, but I agree with Demo," Sniper admitted, looking at Reddy, "You know how to use that thing?"

"I am trained in all forms of physical combat and weapons handling,"

"I don't like us standing still for too long," Sniper stated, shifting, "We need to get moving, we can work it out as we go along. Right now, all it'd take is a well-placed grenade or a semi-auto rifle and half of us would be goners."

They began moving, the short distance to the main building covered in less than thirty seconds. Demo tossed a flash-bang into the entry, before Miss Pauling and Engie went in ahead, shotguns up and ready to fire. It was textbook methodical, like any other time they'd had to get into some big-deal compound before, and once Engie called out that the room was clear, Demo waved Hale and his three lackeys through, following behind them and keeping an eye on the rear with Sniper doing one last scan of the parking lot before following him.

The inside had been coated in a fine layer of dust, presumably carried inside by the winds. Glass windows on the front doors had been shattered, leaving the room exposed to the elements, and debris littered the floor. The electricity clearly wasn't working, but the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the tarmac provided enough light to see by. Two check-in desks stood side by side at one end of the room, with what had once been a security checkpoint at the other end, the scanners and conveyor belt evidently torn from the ground and taken away. Beyond that, a small lounge area could be seen with comfortable chairs set in rows and a small cafe in one corner. Doors marked DANGER: AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY led off from the first room.

Everyone had been in airports before and small airbases, but this one looked different, more... futuristic. Or perhaps modern was the right word, Demo told himself - after all, his concept of futuristic was probably outdated by a decade or two for the current era he was in. Things to consider when he was even less sober.

"Those doors lead to baggage handling," Miss Pauling pointed to two of the doors beside the check-in desks, "And that one, we guessed, leads up to the control tower. That one led to the second level, where it's all mostly offices. Below us there's all sorts of airline support - mechanics, baggage handling, catering. This place is a lot bigger than it looks on the outside. They could be hiding anywhere."

"Splitting up is probably our best bet," Sniper stated, "Small groups or pairs. Let these two," he nodded to Hale's pilot and the other assistant, Biddy or whatever, "Go on their own. BLU probably won't bother with them seeing as they're unarmed civilians,"

"They ain't normal thinkers, Sniper," Engie reminded him, "I'll go with Jerry; we'll try and get this plane running and ready to fly. Bidwell and Reddy, since y'all know each other well, y'all go together. Sniper and Saxton, and Demo and Miss Pauling - we've all come through worse."

"Radio check," Miss Pauling stated, flicking hers on. Demo could see Hale rolling his eyes, and scowled - Hale was used to fighting in close-quarters, in fair fights where the only weapons being used were fists and wit. He could appreciate that, but the guy was probably out of his depth when it came to gunfights. In Demo's opinion, that meant he should shut up, listen to those with the experience, and follow their orders. He could already tell Saxton was going to be a problem, especially if they got pinned.

He checked the radio Miss Pauling had given him, fitting the earpiece over his pinna and pushing the bud into his ear. A small microphone hung in line with the cord, and he clipped it to his collar, so that he'd only need to turn his head while hitting the talkback button on the radio, clipped onto his belt, in order to be heard.

"The guy at the shop said these have a range of two hundred yards," Miss Pauling told them, her voice clear in his ear, "That should be enough for us to stay in contact no matter how far away we end up, so long as we don't leave this airfield. Can everyone hear me clearly?"

"Aye, I gotcha,"

Demo replied, using his radio. He wasn't entirely accustomed to using a radio - they were more Scout, Medic, Sniper and Engie's sort of thing - but he couldn't see any real drawbacks to actually being able to stay in contact with his teammates.

They split up, moving in separate directions once Miss Pauling had given them their instructions - clear all points of attack, secure the main building, and then get Hale and his entourage - including Sniper and Demo - into the air. As soon as they'd entered the lounge area, Miss Pauling did another radio check, and Demo listened as each of their group replied, Sniper replying for himself and Hale. After determining that the lounge and cafe were clear, Demo led the way through the door that apparently led to the control tower. A carefully-fired flash-bang landed on the steps two levels above, both Demo and Miss Pauling shielding their eyes and blocking their ears to avoid the effects.

They both heard feet scuffling, a male grunt, and then something dropped from two flights above where the stunner had gone off. Demo didn't have a chance to see what type it was, grabbing Miss Pauling around the waist and throwing both of them out of the enclosed space, kicking the door closed behind them--

The flash bled around the edge of the door, but the walls muffled the sound of the bang. Demo sighed in mild relief - it seemed his counterpart was using the same tactics.

"We've got people in the control tower," Miss Pauling said into her mic, "Jerry, Engie, be careful crossing the tarmac - their Sniper could have a nest set up and watching your path."

"I heard ya," Engie replied, "We're just clearing this lower level and grabbing whatever parts we might need - we'll wait for your signal,"

"It's gotta be their Demo," Demo told her in a soft voice as he pulled the door open as quietly as he could, "Nobody else lobs any sort of grenades. I say we draw 'im out,"

"How do you propose we do that?" Miss Pauling asked. 

"Get 'im to throw another stunner, pretend like we got affected and when he comes down to check it out, we grab 'im then," 

"Nice idea; I like it," Miss Pauling nodded, starting up the stairs, before stopping. "Wait - what makes you think they won't throw a _real_ grenade?"

"He'd've already done it,"

"Fair point."

Demo would have preferred to go first, but Miss Pauling was the one with the short-range non-explosive weapons, so he fell in behind her. After three flights of steps, he lobbed another stunner, and it clattered into the staircase before going off.

"Come out and fight, ye bloody cowards!"

Demo couldn't help smiling to himself - he'd been right. Fighting against himself was certainly a lot more fun than anyone else, simply because he enjoyed knowing exactly what his duplicates would do. This time was no different - Medic had reported that BLU's Demoman was more aggressive than his original self had ever been, unless they counted any time Demo went into a casual brawl while drunk off his chops.

"Come down 'ere and fight us, ya runt!" Demo called back, "Y'ain't doin' yer blood much proud by hidin' in a stairwell, are ye?"

"Are you sure it's a good idea to provoke him?" Miss Pauling asked in a low voice. Demo shrugged, grinning as he continued past her.

"I'm the one encroachin' on yer cap, ye lazy half-wit! Come and stop me, face to face like a true Highlander!"

"Show yer mettle, ya weak swill'a piss! _C'mon_!"

Demo was so eager for face-to-face confrontation that he didn't see the stickies until it was almost too late. He saw his clone, grinning at him from the other side of the stairwell as he lifted a detonator, and had enough awareness to throw himself backwards, the blast catching him as he fell, forcing him down another flight of stairs. He was only just barely aware of Miss Pauling racing forward, and his ears were ringing from the blast too much to hear the sound of her shotgun, emptying both barrels before switching to her pistol. Shaking his head, Demo rolled back to his feet, charging after her, spotting the grenade that hit the wall behind her and grabbing her around the waist, this time throwing himself forward. Once again, the blast propelled him - forwards this time - and he brought his own launcher up, firing first one, then a second. They detonated within a second of each other, and BLU's Demo was caught between both blasts.

Miss Pauling charged forward, reloading hastily and bringing her shotgun around to aim squarely between BLU Demo's eyes.

She didn't even flinch as she pulled the trigger.

"Status report, how's everybody doing?" She asked, reloading her shotgun and pistol while Demo scavenged more grenades from his clone's body. This was nothing new to him, seeing as he'd done it so many times before with his duplicates, but what caught him off-guard was the crucifix he always wore, hidden beneath his shirt and vest, one that he had insisted to Engie be included in his imprints no matter what.

His clone wasn't wearing it.

" _I've set up a sentry to cover our asses,_ " Engie told them. " _We'll be ready to get movin' as soon as we get the all-clear,_ "

" _Bidwell and I are in the lounge,_ " Reddy replied, " _If you have any trouble in that tower, let us know - I'll keep an eye on the exit, make sure nobody goes in after you,_ "

" _Team 'Straya clearin' the top floor. Not even a wombat's fart up here. It's too quiet._ "

"Sniper's right," Miss Pauling stated, still talking into her radio, "Demo and I are the only ones who've had any sort of trouble so far,"

" _Maybe they just had a scouting party here, for whatever reason,_ " Engie suggested, " _Figured they should at least know the place in case we all end up havin' to face off here for real._ "

Demo watched as Miss Pauling considered this for a few moments, before shaking her head. "Either way, they're here. We stick to plan - Sniper, how much of that level have you cleared?"

" _Not even half,_ " he replied, " _But so far, nothin'. I don't think we'll find a stray whisker up 'ere, but if we do, you'll know about it._ "

"Alright guys. Reddy, you and Bidwell keep the lounge on lockdown, let us know if you see anybody coming our way. Engie, Jerry, see what else you can find down there and then wait for our signal. They might be hiding in those lower levels."

They waited for everyone to reply with affirmatives, before continuing up the stairs. They were only about halfway up the tower, which rose - at Demo's guess - around five or six storeys into the air. He'd seen plenty of these, flying back and forth from Scotland when he'd been moving his mother, but hadn't ever been inside one. The stark concrete wals and stairs, with iron railings, was a little underwhelming, but he guessed they didn't really need fancy carpeting or anything of that sort in a place like this.

Miss Pauling paused on one side of the single door at the top of the tower, pressing herself against the wall as Demo imitated her on the other side. There were definitely voices on the other side, and Demo turned his head, to speak into his mic.

"We've got people in the control tower," he said softly, "We're about to storm 'em. Only sounds like two voices."

" _Be careful,_ " Engie replied. Demo didn't need to be told twice - unlike himself and the other mercs, Miss Pauling didn't have the luxury of respawn or even the Medigun - if she was hurt, she had to heal naturally. If she was killed, it was permanent.

"You open it," he told Miss Pauling, as she checked her shotgun and pistol, "I'll go first--"

She was shaking her head, " _You_ open it, and _I'll_ go first. I've got the shotgun, remember?"

Demo wanted to argue, but had to remind himself that she did something to this effect a lot more often than anybody gave her credit for. He nodded reluctantly, grabbing the door handle. She gave him a nod, and he opened the door. Miss Pauling threw herself around the corner, shotgun raised and cocked. Demo prepared himself to hear the boom as she let off the rounds, but--

Silence.

Demo peered around the corner at the same time Miss Pauling spoke, sounding just as surprised as he felt.

" _Scout_?"

"Nice to see you too, Miss Pauling,"

That cocky smirk was still there, and if not for the blue shirt, Demo could almost believe it was their Scout - but, like there had been with the other Demoman, there was something... _off_ about him. Something not quite right. He had the scattergun raised, aimed directly at Miss Pauling's forehead, and as he tried to place what was wrong, he realised - neither Scout nor _any_ of his duplicates had _ever_ pointed a weapon at Miss Pauling.

Demo whirled around as he heard a Spy decloaking, and Miss Pauling cried out as she was grabbed from behind, the shotgun twisted out of her grip as a knife appeared at her throat. Demo went for Eyelander, but Scout turned the scattergun on him, shaking his head. Just behind him, Pyro let off a tiny spurt of flame from his flamethrower.

"I wouldn't do anything too rash, Red," Scout told Demo, his voice tinged with coldness. That... Demo looked at Miss Pauling, whose hands were being held behind her back by Spy, still pressing that knife into her throat. She looked furious, and tried to pull free of BLU's Spy, who was grinning like the psychotic bastard he was.

"Toss your weapons into the corner," Scout told Demo, "And your vest."

This guy meant business, and Demo was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that _Scout_ was holding them at gunpoint, but he did as he was told, hesitating as he went to strip off his vest. He kept spare ammunition stored on the vest, and it provided some small protection from bullets and even scattergun pellets. He wasn't too keen to strip it off, not in a situation like this.

At his hesitation, he saw Spy's hand move, a silver flash, and a thin red line appeared on Miss Pauling's cheek.

Scout, who would normally have moved Hell and high water for Miss Pauling, didn't even blink.

Demo shrugged off the vest, tossing it into the corner with Eyelander and the grenade launcher, spreading his arms. He was in just his red shirt, no padding or vests or shield. How the hell did Scout and Soldier feel comfortable like this, no real protection on their upper body? Another thing to ponder the next time he got drunk.

"Didn't take long to figure out what you were planning," Scout told them, "See, _I_ know all about those empty mine shafts, too. And you should really be tryin'a protect your own security, too - Spy just walked right on into your little meeting last night," he gestured to Spy, who redoubled his grip on Miss Pauling's wrists. Demo realised he had twisted both of her arms into a lock - if he forced them any further up her back, he'd break her arms.

"What do you want?" Despite the pain she must be in, Miss Pauling looked furious. Spy shifted slightly, and she winced, and Demo would have moved for her had it not been for the fact Scout still had his scattergun aimed squarely at Demo's head. He'd seen what that thing could do at point-blank range. He wasn't keen to force this guy's hand.

"Well, personally, I think you could take a guess," Scout replied, clearly the talker here, "But, our team? We just wanna go back to what we used to do. Well, most of us do," he nodded at Spy and Pyro, "War's really all that some of us have ever known. imagine being told that it ain't a thing anymore - what exactly would you do if you suddenly found yourself out of work, Miss Pauling?"

"Find another job," Demo interjected, "I wouldn't start tryin' to _cause_ a war, that's for sure."

"I wasn't asking you, Cyclops,"

Demo opened his mouth to respond, but Pyro let off a spurt of flame again. Hesitantly, he closed it. What the hell was going on? Scout was... in charge? Since when would Spy ever let that happen? Since when would _any_ of them let that happen?

"If the war's gonna end, we want a clear winner," Scout stated, "Not any of this stalemate bullshit. Only losers agree to a draw. Wouldn't you agree, Miss Pauling?"

She whimpered as Spy twisted her arm further, grinning sadistically. Demo grit his teeth, figuring that if he had any more outbursts, they'd probably hurt Miss Pauling for it. Once again, he reminded himself - normal human. No Medibeam or respawn.

"Here's what you're gonna do," Scout told them, holstering his scattergun as he looked between the two, "Seeing as you took out _our_ Demo, one of you two has to call it in to the rest of your team. Tell them you've cleared the tower, and that it's safe for them to go for that plane. Then, I'll let you have the best seats in the house as we blow them halfway to hell."

"They'll just respawn and come after you," Demo snapped. Scout was smirking as he leaned back against the control panel that ran along one wall.

"Not all of them," he replied, "It'll be kinda hard to take Mann Co back without Hale, won't it? And even if you did succeed, who's gonna run it? Not you guys, that's for sure."

"You can't--" Miss Pauling whimpered as Spy shifted his grip on her arms slightly, "You can't kill them, they haven't done anything wrong!"

"But they will," Scout replied, "We let 'em go, he sends you whatever you need, and your little team wipes us off the face of the earth. Now _that_ doesn't sound fair, does it? Sounds like stacked odds to me - and you know none of us like playing stacked odds, Miss Pauling."

Miss Pauling winced again as Spy twisted her arm, but Demo had decided he'd had enough. "For bleedin' sake, let 'er go!" He snapped angrily, "Me, I can understand keeping lock and load on, but you've got 'er guns - there ain't need to hurt 'er!"

He regretted it almost instantly as Pyro let off another jet of flame, but Scout held out a hand, giving him a look. Pyro made an irritated sound, but backed off. To his relief, Demo watched as Spy shoved Miss Pauling forward. She stumbled, falling at Scout's feet, and the strain that had been placed upon her arms became evident when he realised she could barely hold herself up. Scout crouched down, pulling her up with him, holding one of her wrists to limit her movement.

Right. The knife wasn't at her throat, and Demo glanced at his grenade launcher. It was about three steps away, and he could probably make that and get off a grenade before Pyro got him. The only issue was Miss Pauling. He looked over at her, and in the moment their eyes met, he realised she was already thinking the same thing as him.

"My apologies, Miss Pauling," Spy was grinning, "I allowed myself to get carried away. I doubt it will happen again."

Could he do it, though? The splash would undoubtedly injure her, even if she did find some way to shield herself.

"Demo," Miss Pauling stated, catching his attention again. The slightest nod. "Make the call."

"Nice to see you've decided to co-operate," Scout sneered. Demo realised she wasn't talking about the radio call - she was telling him to make a decision. Christ, he hated when people left important shit for him to decide. He usually went with his gut, and it was telling him to go for the grenade launcher.

If he killed her, he hoped the rest of the team could forgive him.

Demo pretended to key his radio, turning his head to speak into the mic. "Tower's cleared. Miss Pauling's with me, had a rough go but yeh's should be clear to go."

Pyro made an irritated grunt, swinging around to face Scout as he said something that sounded like chastising. Demo saw his chance, and lunged forward, hitting the ground hard as he scooped up the grenade launcher, pointing it at the ceiling, and firing.

Pyro turned, flamethrower ignited as he caught Demo's legs in the flames. Demo thrashed about as the psycho lit up the rest of his body, the flames burning quickly through his clothing, and in a small corner of his mind Demo was amazed at how much could happen in the space of a single second, but then there was a sudden flash, blinding pain, and--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, yes, Teufort will come back into play within the next few chapters. I mean, a town that seems almost utopian _has_ to have _something_ to do with the plot, right?
> 
> So yeah, back to the whole "no update until 10 comments" thing. Two comments left, guys, go go go!


	12. Pretty Boy's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _We made it!_
> 
> I'm probably going to slow it down with updates now, instead of updating daily I'll probably make it every second or third day. It'll always be around the same time from now on - around this time.
> 
> Please, for the love of god, leave feedback. Even negative feedback - if you're not enjoying the story, tell me why. I worry about going too OOC with characters and whatnot (obvs BLU are going to be a bit OOC given their... well, _them_ ) or making things _too_ dark and angsty, so... keep me in the loop. Also, suggest nicknames for the BLU mercs - calling them BLU Sniper and BLU Demoman is getting boring XD

Miss Pauling barely had a chance to recover from the shock of the blast before she was being dragged out from under the control console, the cold iron of a gun jammed up under her jaw as she was twisted into a chokehold, lifted up and forced to face the BLU Scout. She could see the remains of Demo's body, as well as Spy and Pyro - now it was just her and Scout.

She struggled for breath, grasping at his arm, trying to fight him off and painfully aware of the burns on her legs from the grenade. _How had he survived?_

"Clever," he snarled, shaking her slightly, "Didn't take much to figure you'd do something stupid like that, though. Now, make the call,"

He let her go, shoving her back with such force that she stumbled, tripping on one of the bodies and falling backwards. Her hands flew out, trying to find anything to grab and use as a weapon, but he was standing over her, scattergun pointed directly at her. If there'd been any doubt in her mind that he'd pull the trigger, it was gone now. This... this person in front of her, it looked like Scout, spoke like Scout - but he wasn't anything like the real Scout.

This man was clearly a psychopath.

"Don't kill Hale," she heard herself saying, "Or his... assistants. We - we can try and work something out," she told him, "Just think this through. You didn't even try talking to me about this--"

Scout moved closer, crouching down beside her with a slight smirk that under any other situation she would have slapped right off his face, but he was the one with the gun (which, she noted, was still pointed directly at her) and whoever this was, this not-Scout, he had his mind set on one thing. She just needed to figure out what that one thing was.

"It's sweet that you think I still answer to you," he said softly, "I mean, clearly, I don't. But you keep deluding yourself anyway. Like some little kid trying to argue with an adult."

" _Miss Pauling, Demo, it's been a bit too long,_ " Engie's voice sounded in her earpiece, " _Y'all doin' okay up there?_ "

She must have reacted, because he waved the gun slightly, smirking.

"Why don't ya answer him, Miss Pauling?" He said, almost like it was a challenge, a dare, "Tell him how you lost Demo but hey - you're in the tower now. Nobody up here is a threat, not to him."

_How did he--_

The headset. BLU's Scout was wearing his trademark headset, and Miss Pauling guessed they had somehow figured out what frequency the RED radios were using. She pushed herself back a little, away from him, and her shoulders hit the wall. Firmly, she reminded herself that this wasn't Scout, just some asshole with the same face. She steeled herself, trying to ignore the scattergun.

"Swear that you won't kill them,"

"No promises," he replied, checking the gun, "Call it in."

"Not until you--"

The gun was up under her jaw, digging into her throat and putting pressure on her windpipe. She winced, unable to help herself, and saw his smirk deepen. Sadist as well, great.

Reluctantly, she keyed her radio, looking away from him. The pressure on her throat lessened, but the gun stayed in place.

"Engie, can you hear me?" She asked.

" _There y'are! We was startin' to get worried. Reddy said they heard a grenade._ "

"Yeah," she looked up at Scout, "We ran into a bit of trouble. Good news is you should be clear; bad news is we lost Demo."

* * *

 

In the lower level, Engie sighed. He'd expected as much. "All right. Sniper, you guys finished clearing the top floor?"

" _Still not even a rat's whisker,_ " Sniper replied, " _We've cleared everything facing onto the tarmac, but this doesn't feel right. Feels like there's something else going on._ "

" _They could have rigged the plane--_ " Miss Pauling cut herself off with a soft wince, which didn't go unnoticed by either Engie or Jerry. The pair exchanged concerned looks.

"We'll get movin' soon," Engie told her, "I'll let y'all know when. If y'all are in safe positions, stay there."

He waited for an affirmative from the two butlers and Sniper before turning to the man who had stood in front of him, waiting patiently.

"What'd they say?" Benji asked. Engie sighed, holstering his shotgun.

"The lady sounded like she might be in a bit of trouble," he replied, "She didn't use the signal we agreed on. Demo's gone, apparently, but she didn't say who she was left with up there."

"You send anybody in there, she's dead," Benji stated, "You know that, right? This Scout, he ain't fuckin' around. Medic threatened to out our plans and he shot the guy's head off - and nobody challenged him."

"I'm just gonna pray she's stuck with Spy instead," Engie shook his head.

"So, what are we going to do?" Jerry asked, "We can't go for the plane, not with their Sniper watching the tarmac,"

"No, we can't," Engie agreed, "And you said their Soldier and Heavy are in the hangar?"

"Waitin' for Sniper's signal to pop out and mow down anybody between the building and the plane," he agreed, "Look, if Demo got sent back, maybe he'd call in reinforcements. The rest of your team."

"That's not a bet we should stack our chips on," Jerry remarked, and Engie had to agree. He'd come to like Jerry, found that the pilot was rather quick-witted if a little nervous of his superiors. All the guy ever really wanted to do was fly planes, but the wrong word to the wrong person, in his mind, could put him out of that job forever.

"I got an idea, but it's a crazy one," Benji stated, "Engie, we swap shirts. I'll go with Jerry, get this plane sorted, while you, lookin' like me, sneak up on Sniper and try and take him out."

"Wouldn't it be better if we just stayed as we are, without switchin' roles?" Engie asked.

"Naw, then who's to say I ain't gonna double-cross y'all? Nah, I can manage the plane, and Jerry knows enough about the mechanics, even if they are some fancy new mini-jet or whatever," Benji shook his head, "The longer we sit and talk about it, the more time we waste. Give me your shirt and then go deal with that Sniper - shouldn't take you more than a few minutes, right?"

* * *

 

Miss Pauling had to admit, she had only ever found herself in this sort of situation once.

BLU's Scout had wasted no time in using the dead Spy's tie to bind her hands behind the back of one of the desk chairs in the room, wheeling her to the windows along one wall so that she could see straight down onto the tarmac between the building and the chosen jet.

"Best seat in the house, as promised," he had grinned sickeningly, before settling in the other chair, facing her.

Neither of them had spoken since, but she could still feel his eyes on her, and he hadn't shifted the scattergun from her torso since sitting down. But she had purposely left out the code word they'd agreed on, and was hoping the others would realise something was wrong. Her brain was racing as she stared down at the tarmac, at the hangar where she'd caught a glimpse of their Sniper, and she was trying to figure out a way she could get herself out of this whole mess, but she was drawing blanks.

"Why?" She asked, after a few minutes of silence. She turned to look at Scout, whose grin had faded into that smug arrogant smirk that she was quickly beginning to hate. "Why do all of this? What do you get out of it?"

He tilted his head to the side for a moment, thinking about his answer. "Do I need a motive? Maybe I just like to see things getting shaken up a li'l."

"What would your mother think of this?"

"She's not my Ma,"

Damn. "What happened to you, Scout? Engie told me that... the other clones, they weren't exactly like the... well, the REDs. So what happened to you, to make you like this?"

Keep him talking, maybe he'd get distracted enough that she could cut through the tie. She had found a rough section on the metal back of the chair, and was trying to saw through the expensive silk fabric without moving her arms too much or giving herself away. Fortunately, one thing that apparently hadn't changed was the fact the guy was at some level of narcissism equivalent to his forebear.

"Simple enough," he told her, relaxing and flashing her one of his more arrogant grins, "You see, people let 'emselves get caught up with feelings all the time. Feelings like fear, or even love. And because'a those, they don't do stuff that they could have done otherwise. It's why _he_ \- the loser one - plays dumb a lotta the time. He ain't dumb - he just don't wanna be laughed at for bein' wrong about stuff. Scared. I'm different to him 'cos, well, I _ain't_ scared. I ain't scared'a what people think, ain't scared'a gettin' hurt, and I sure as hell ain't scared'a hurting people I care about, 'cos there ain't nobody I care about no more."

Miss Pauling stopped, staring at him. "What do you mean by that? There's nobody you care about?"

"Even if you was the target of a mission, Miss Pauling, _he'd_ never hurt you. Just can't do it. Same thing with his Ma. Put him in a room with any one'a his brothers and tell him he has to kill 'em, he wouldn't do it. He don't show it, but he does care. Me? Nah," he waved a hand, "I mean, if you got loose from here, I wouldn't even hesitate with shootin' you to keep you from gettin' away. You already know that. I ain't a guy who screws around, Miss Pauling."

"No, I... I can definitely see that," Miss Pauling reluctantly agreed. She felt even more unnerved with his admission that he wouldn't hesitate with that gun, but told herself to keep trying. If she could get him to look away, even for a second, she might be able to get the drop on him. All she had to do, really, was get loose and get the radio, warn the others. They could figure out what to do after that.

"What about me?" She asked, focusing on trying to keep him talking, "What do you plan to do with me?"

He looked at her with that smirk again, shrugging. "Obviously I ain't just gonna let ya go," he told her, "Maybe you can be insurance, somethin' to make sure the REDs don't start planning anything else. All most of this team wants is just to be allowed to live and fight and win that stupid war - mostly because it's all they've known."

"You can't kill off RED," Miss Pauling pointed out, "You'd have to disable respawn to do that, and that means that even if any of you die, you stay dead. I don't think your team would be too open to that."

"No, they weren't," Scout grinned, "But we found a way around it. Things are already happening, Miss Pauling, don't you worry about that."

" _Alright, we're movin' out,_ "

Engie's voice startled her, coming from the radio that had been left on the console behind Scout, the earpiece ripped away so that it functioned like any old radio. Scout glanced at it, then looked out the window, Miss Pauling imitating him. There were still a few threads left, and while his attention was diverted she worked harder, looking out the window as she did so.

Engie went first, toolbox tucked under one arm and wielding a shotgun, which he swung in all directions. At this height, Miss Pauling couldn't make out the faces, but she saw Jerry follow him, staying close and holding something out in front of him - Engie had probably given him a pistol or something. She saw Sniper appear over the arch of the hangar, taking his sweet time to line up a shot--

The windows were soundproof, but Miss Pauling knew the crack of a sniper rifle by heart, and her mind played the sound for her as Jerry fell, head still intact but a red star appearing on his leg. She looked away, closing her eyes as Scout laughed, and felt the tie break loose.

She didn't waste any more time. Swinging her foot up, she kicked Scout's wrist, sending the scattergun flying, before launching herself out of the chair. He was already on his feet, lunging forward, and she got in two good hits before one of his hands caught the front of her blouse. The punch stunned her, and she almost lost her balance, but brought her knee up, missing his groin but getting him in the lower stomach. One hand was around her ankle, and she was jerked off-balance. She threw herself forwards, arms wrapping around Scout's neck in an imitation of an embrace as he fell back against the console. A hand was at her throat, and she drew a fist back, punching him squarely in the eye before he even started to squeeze.

She stumbled back, regaining her balance quickly, and brought a leg around to deliver a solid roundhouse kick into his stomach. He staggered back, falling against the console, and Miss Pauling swept his legs out from under him. She didn't waste any time, diving for the door and scooping up the fallen Spy's knife, spinning it open. Something caught around her ankle and she stumbled, falling sideways against the chair as a gunshot rang out. Something struck her in the abdomen, and for a moment she thought she'd stabbed herself, but the knife was still in her hand. She threw it at Scout, not bothering to see if it hit its mark as she rolled to her feet and lurched for the door again, the pain in her abdomen almost crippling. A hand flew to the injury, clutching at it as her breath suddenly began to feel like it was being cut off, and a sharp pain could be felt in her chest.

She was on the floor suddenly, torso seemingly burning with pain as she felt a fluid rising in her throat. She was roughly rolled onto her back, and flung her hands out as the pain in her abdomen increased. She tried to scream from the pain, hands still scrabbling for something, anything, one hand closing around a gun but there was already one in her face and she couldn't breathe even if she wanted to, blood running cold as his hand crashed down upon her arm, pinning her hand and the gun to the floor. His knee was digging into her stomach, which was covered in blood, and she could taste the blood that was choking her even now, making it almost impossible to breathe as she stared up at a cold, hard glare.

"Goodbye, Miss Pauling," Scout stated.

The gunshot echoed down the stairwell, loud enough to be heard all over the first floor of the building.


	13. Quick-Fix

Spy lowered the smoking revolver, staring at the chaos he had stumbled upon. He'd barely even had time to draw his revolver - even half a second's hesitation would have been disaster.

Pyro made a concerned noise, crouching beside Miss Pauling as he shoved the dead Scout off her. She was struggling to breathe, glasses knocked askew, and the front of her blouse had been ripped open. A dark bruise was already forming on her cheek, and even as Pyro pulled her into a sitting position, she coughed up more blood than was probably healthy.

"Get her to Medic," Spy told Pyro, who nodded, scooping Miss Pauling up in his arms and hurrying back down the stairs. Spy pressed the button on the side of the radio he had taken from base, holding it to his mouth as he spoke, "Mr Hale, you must get on that plane _immediately_. Their backup will be arriving soon."

" _I want Sniper and Demo with me,_ " Hale insisted, " _We can wait for them._ "

" _No, you_ can't," Engie argued, " _Their Demo is in that unit, and if he gets one grenade at that plane, y'ain't leavin' here in one piece. Go, Hale. We'll hold 'em off,_ "

* * *

 

Hale was already sprinting across the tarmac, and grit his teeth in frustration as he took the boarding steps three at a time. "Sniper! We _need_ ya, mate!"

" _I'm drawin' beads on these rabbits,_ " Sniper's voice replied, " _You don't need me, mate - you never did. I'm more use here - go!_ "

Saxton threw himself through the open door as bullets began to ring out around him, and Bidwell heaved the door shut. Jerry had the plane ready to go, and was already rolling away from the steps as bullets peppered the side of the jet, before the barrage suddenly stopped. Hale rolled to his feet and almost stumbled into the cockpit, able to see two people in blue racing towards them from the lowest level of the terminal. One of them was the black Scottish fella, and Hale was not a man well-accustomed to fear but he felt a hint of it as the Scotsman raised a grenade launcher and fired.

Jerry saw it, too, and tried to roll back faster, but even modern planes apparently took a lot of time to gain momentum, and as the grenade arced through the air, seemingly in slow motion, Hale realised they weren't going to make it--

The grenade exploded mid-air, less than ten feet from the nose of the plane, and Jerry cried out. Hale released a breath as he felt the plane swing around, relaxing visibly before looking up. The last thing he saw before the terminal slid out of sight was Sniper, saluting him from one of the upper level windows.

Maybe he was wrong about these mercs.

"Mr Hale, you might want to take a seat," Jerry said shakily, "I'm doing an emergency take-off - it's gonna get rocky."

Hale nodded. Rocky. Right. He'd been in plenty of rocky take-offs before. He wasn't scared, but given these latest events, he figured sitting down was a good idea.

He glanced around the cokpit, settling in the copilot seat and trying to figure out where all the blood had come from. Oh. The body of the Engineer lay behind his seat, shotgun in hand.

"He said it'd be easier to explain things," Jerry explained, noticing where Hale was looking. "Uh... I don't think I'll be any use if we have to fight when we land."

"Why not?"

Jerry gestured to his knee, which was swathed in a white wrap that was quickly turning red. Hale realised that Jerry might not stay conscious for the full trip, and wondered if Reddy or Bidwell knew how to fly a plane.

* * *

 

Medic was staring as they watched the jet tear past the terminal, taking off in less than five hundred yards. At a muffled shout, he turned to see Pyro carrying a barely conscious Miss Pauling, and for a moment he froze, staring at the young woman as his brain absorbed what it was seeing.

"Oh my god - Miss Pauling!"

Scout ran forward, helping Pyro lay her on the ground gently as Medic shook himself back to his senses. He hurried to her side, shooing the two others aside, and checked her vitals first. Scout already had a hand covering the gunshot wound in her abdomen, and she closed her eyes as Medic dropped to his knees beside her, grabbing her shoulder gently.

"Miss Pauling, stay with us," he urged her. At this distance, it was easy to see not all of the blood was hers - but the wound had been left to bleed for much too long, in his opinion. Without hesitation, he grabbed his Medigun, turning the beam onto her - it wouldn't heal her, but it would slow down any sort of cell death that might already be happening, at least until he _could_ fix her.

Pyro recounted what he and Spy had heard and seen, and Scout visibly relaxed when he told them most of the blood wasn't hers - but the bullet wound (from a pistol, thank god) had entered in the region of her liver, and bleeding out was a very real possibility for the young lady.

"We need to get her back to the base, _immediately_ ," Medic told the other two, "I can only do so much here."

" _Soldier reporting in. We have despatched all hostiles on the lower levels. Maximum body count for our enemies!_ "

" _Excellent work,_ " Spy's voice replied, clearly the one in charge now, " _Find Engineer and we shall leave this place,_ "

" _Engie didn't make it,_ " Demo replied, " _Looks like he took out their Sniper, but got shoved doin' so. Fell off the roof, and it's a long way down._ "

"Who is not accounted for?" Medic asked, passing the Medigun to Pyro and gesturing for him to keep it trained on Miss Pauling, nodding at Scout to keep pressure on the entry wound. He had done all he could so far, and nodded to the pair as he stood up. "I am in the lounge with Pyro and Scout."

" _I am making my way to you, Medic,_ " Spy replied.

" _Report! Heavy and I are en route to rendezvous with Demoman in the parking lot._ "

" _Aye, what he said,_ " Demoman agreed, " _How's Miss Pauling?_ "

Medic hesitated as he gestured for the boys to somehow pick her up. Perhaps leave the truth for now? No, that was not something he often did. "She has lost a lot of blood, but I cannot properly assess her condition until I get her back to the base."

" _Ach, that sounds good enough to me. She's a tough lass, she'll pull through._ "

Pyro couldn't help but hope Demo was right. Miss Pauling was usually a very pretty purple butterfly, but right now she looked all plain and normal. Moreover, it had been that ugly, twisted Scout that had done something to Miss Pauling, and now she wasn't waking up. Pyro made a mental note that if they ever saw the ugly Scout again, they'd make him dance so much that his feet fell off and his body would twist into nothing. _Nobody_ was allowed to hurt Miss Pauling.

They carried her to the van as Demo, Soldier and Heavy returned, and Demo swore when he saw her.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Pyro told him, hoping they were telling the truth, "Most of the blood isn't hers,"

Demo nodded slightly, only barely understanding, and Pyro bit back a heavy sigh. After however many years of working together, you'd think their teammates would have at least learned to understand Pyro's muffled words, but no.

They climbed into the back of the van quickly, Medic staying close to Pyro since they were still carrying Miss Pauling. Scout was talking about the jets excitedly, eyes wide as he took the front passenger seat beside Heavy, and Spy climbed in last, closing the doors behind him as the van took off. Pyro made sure to keep a hand pressed over the bullet wound in Miss Pauling's side, while Medic quickly turned the Medigun back onto her. Red sparkles surrounded her again, but she wasn't changing at all, and Pyro was reminded of a time when she was sneezing and coughing a lot. She hadn't been a butterfly then, either. Maybe the Medigun could put more sparkles back into her, so she could be back to normal again?

Everyone kept casting concerned glances at Miss Pauling, but were making idle chatter about the small fight. If not for the bleeding lady in Pyro's arms, and the nervous tension in the van, they may as well have just completed some other mission.

"It was weird," Demo said, his words jolting Pyro back to the moment. "'E was... focused, givin' the orders, and honestly I've never seen any of your duplicates act like that," he told Scout, who had shut up for once. "He was keeping his gun on her pretty much the whole time, like he didn't even care about me. Turns out, he didn't - right before the grenade went off, I saw him shovin' her under that console, like 'e was tryin'a protect her."

"We all know the clones are different to us because of that fault in the respawn when they were made," Medic remarked, "Spy's clone showed a definite sociopathic side, mine was... well, like me but less reserved about experimenting with ideas. The only one whose clone was the same was--"

A shrill, ringing sound began to emit from somewhere in the van, and Spy sighed, patting his pockets before pulling a phone out of one of his inside pockets. The device still looked odd to Pyro, but they couldn't really fault the usefulness - it had helped them arrive in time to save Miss Pauling _and_ the brutish giant Australian.

"Yes, he got away fine," Spy said into the small rectangular device, holding one corner of it against his ear "We dealt with the rest of BLU, as I'm sure you are aware, and are on our way back now... Yes, for the most part, we are fine... Please prepare Medic's surgery if you know how. Miss Pauling was injured... Yes, I am fairly certain she will be fine..."

Pyro felt like they were the only one who noticed Medic shift uncomfortably, and felt a sinking feeling in their gut. They looked at Miss Pauling - everything "normal" was grey and brown and boring, but she was even more grey than she had been before, like it was darkening even with Medic's Medigun on her. They didn't want her to turn black, because when people went black in "normal", it meant they weren't there any more.

Medic hurried Pyro along once they got back to base, and Engie was waiting for them with a guerney. Pyro hadn't seen Medic use these very much before, since everyone else could be healed by the Medigun, so it wasn't very often Medic had inpatients in his little surgery. Pyro ran after them, holding the Medigun again while Scout had taken over keeping pressure on the bullet wound, but Medic shooed them out of the surgery, shaking his head. They weren't doctors or medics; they weren't allowed in.

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Pyro lied, seeing Scout ready to argue as Medic gently pushed him out of the door. Scout shot them an irritated look, and Pyro couldn't help but roll their eyes - despite probably being older than Pyro, he tended to act much younger and dumber sometimes. They were suddenly reminded of the other Scout, and hesitantly reached out, poking Scout's cheek.

"Hey, stop that!" Scout slapped their hand away, flinching back and scowling at Pyro. "What's your problem?"

"The other you was weird," Pyro admitted, before lowering their voice, "And... scary."

They had never used that word to describe any humans before, and couldn't ever remember saying it in front of Scout, but his scowl quickly turned from irritation to confusion. "Scary? What's scary?"

"BLU you," Pyro replied. They'd always suspected Scout just pretended not to understand them, but... Well, he hadn't fully understood, but he had gotten an idea of what Pyro had been saying. They pointed to him, to try and emphasise it. "BLU are all ugly and different but BLU Scout was worst."

Scout seemed to relax, looking at Medic's doors again before shaking his head. "I just... I can't believe they hurt Miss Pauling. That's always been a rule - don't hurt anybody we ain't paid to. And we don't. There's gotta be something wrong with them if they think blowing up that jerk was a good idea, too."

Pyro couldn't agree more.

* * *

 

Spy found Demo sitting at the table in the large common space, drinking heavily, and tutted his disgust at the Scotsman.

"We've hardly been back twenty minutes and you are already on that liquor," he remarked, taking out a cigarette and lighting it, "Tell me, how sober were you for today's venture?"

Demo looked up, his single eye glaring fiercely at Spy. "Are you suggestin' I was drunk on th'job?" He demanded, scowling, before shaking his head and looking away, "Figured we'd run int'trouble, on'y 'ad one 'alf-pint before headin' out. Nothin' more soberin' than seein'... well," he waved a hand vaguely as Spy arched an eyebrow.

"Seeing _what_ , exactly?"

"Ach, c'mon," Demo slurred, "Ev'ryone knows Scout'd _ne'er_ even _think'a_ hurtin' Miss Paulin', an' this guy was tryin'a kill 'er! Yeh said it yerself, Spy!"

"Everyone knows I'd likely never take orders from Scout," Spy pointed out, "And that Soldier would never fire upon a civilian. We are all aware that... _something_ is wrong with these clones, but nobody can determine exactly _what_."

"Well, they're smarter," Demo admitted, "They already figured we'd try collapsin' that base. Tha's why they'w're goin' fer Hale - stop 'im takin' 'is comp'ny back,"

Spy grimaced as Demo waved a beer about and some of it slopped out of the bottle. He _despised_ attempting to have intelligent conversations with drunkards, but had been hoping that Demo might be able to provide more evidence as to what his own clone had done.

It was with great reluctance that Spy had to admit, duplicating himself even after Engineer had warned him was probably not a wise idea. He had been concerned, though, and forced to remain on the base when one of the very, _very_ few people he actually cared about was injured - meanwhile one of the most incompetent imbeciles had been allowed to go AWOL! Perhaps when she woke up, he might admit his blunder to Miss Pauling. Oh, she would rant and carry on and whine, as women were prone to doing, but ultimately she would acknowledge that complaining about past actions was pointless, and attack the problem with renewed energy. That was what he liked about her - practical, clever, and focused on resolving problems rather than concerning herself with the fact it was caused in the first place.

Over the course of an hour, Spy drifted towards Medic's surgery, spotting Scout sitting on the floor opposite the doors, seemingly napping, Pyro toying with a cigarette lighter beside him. As if on cue, Medic opened the door, stepping out of the room and closing the door quietly. Spy looked at him expectantly, keeping his expression neutral - but Medic's expression already told him all he needed to know.

"I stopped most of the bleeding," he told Spy, but he had barely finished before Scout and Pyro were scrambling to their feet, both clearly eager for news. Medic gave them a look that clearly indicated he carried news he didn't want to have to tell them. "The bullet is in an awkward position," he explained, "Lodged behind the sternum. To remove it, I would have to remove the bone entirely, and that is a procedure that in itself bears much risk."

He was delaying. Scout rocked forward on his toes, clearly still the optimist. Ever the optimist, really. "She's gonna be okay, though - right?"

It was Medic's hesitation that broke the boy's confidence. Pyro had already guessed, Spy realised, but Scout had been faithful. "There were complications," Spy stated, and Medic nodded slowly, lowering his gaze.

"The bullet entered at an angle," he stated, "And tore through her liver, entering her lung. It ricocheted off one of her ribs, passed through her lung a second time, and lodged between the sternum and heart. I cannot remove the bullet, and I cannot repair the damage it has done. Blood from her liver has entered the damaged lung and I was forced to collapse it to prevent a more immediate fatality. As it is, however, the blood is now collecting in the cavity and without cutting her open further, I cannot repair the damage done to her liver. It is a miracle she was not killed instantly."

Spy was almost certain his expression showed, but the severity of the situation had only just occurred to him, really - the damage Medic described was far worse than anything he had expected. He quickly schooled his features into a more neutral expression; retaining composure even in difficult situations was one of the most essential parts of his job. That didn't mean he wasn't allowed to _feel_ \- he just needed to keep it hidden.

"There's gotta be somethin' you can do, Doc," Scout insisted, "Like... I dunno, why can't the Medibeam heal her?"

"It does not accelerate cellular regeneration without the aid of a chemical that I include in your vaccinations," Medic explained, "Miss Pauling does not receive that chemical, therefore the Medibeam can only slow down cell death. Even keeping her constantly under the beam, she would still eventually die,"

Pyro said something muffled, putting a hand on Scout's shoulder, but he shrugged it off, shaking his head. Denial.

"No! There's gotta be _something_!" He insisted, "Can't you give her the... whatever it is, now?"

"I already have, but even then it would only delay the inevitable. Dosing her all at once with the necessary amount to undo the damage would be just as fatal as her injuries."

"I don't understand half of what you're saying!" Scout snapped. Spy saw the curled fists, the tension in the boy's stance, and shifted slightly. Medic looked helpless.

"I am sorry," he said, removing his glasses, "I wish there was more that I could do--"

Spy lunged at the same moment as Scout, grabbing him around the torso as he shouted at Medic. Pyro had slipped in front of Medic, even as Spy shoved Scout back, the other male stumbling against the wall. He looked ready to fight, but Spy wasn't having any of it.

"Our boss - no, our _friend_ ," he corrected himself, "Is dying, and rather than taking what time you can to show her your support, you'd rather attack your other friends because they cannot play God? Scout, you prove once again how childish you are - have some composure!"

Scout looked mutinous, and as Spy stepped back, he tried to calm himself as well. Fighting wouldn't do anybody any good. This was something they had to simply accept. He looked at Scout again, to see the younger man was looking away, blinking furiously - and suddenly Spy realised. Scout, raised with his hellspawn brothers, was one who acted when something devastating happened. It was the reason he had taken off when his mother had been injured - and now, he was powerless to do anything against the fate of Miss Pauling. Everyone dealt with loss in their own way - and Spy had forgotten that.

"Scout--"

"Alright! I get it!" He snapped, shaking his head as he moved, "No fighting. Whatever."

Before Spy or anybody else could respond, he turned on heel, racing off. Spy had half a mind to go after him, but he was all too aware of the emotional distance between himself and the boy. Instead, he turned to Medic, pushing aside the guilt over Scout - he could add that to his personal list of crimes to be absolved of later.

"You can see her," Medic stated, anticipating his question. They stood in an almost awkward silence, neither Spy nor Pyro wanting to ask the next question, and Medic not wanting to answer it. Spy exhaled carefully.

"And how much longer... do you think she will last?"

"At this rate... no more than a day. It is best to inform everyone. As soon as you can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feed starving motivation today and leave a comment ;)


	14. Black Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly fluff, I guess, because I was an emotional wreck and wanted to write a sappy but. Fight me. Might edit it out/change it or something, idk. Let me know what you reckon.

They didn't take it well.

Obviously, with Medic's uncomfortable silence and Pyro's lack of positive reassurance, they had all guessed, but even Heavy hadn't deluded himself. So when Spy had called them into the living area, he had already known what would be said.

He just hadn't expected it to be so bad.

Eight of them sat around the room in silence, the high-set windows letting in enough light to tell them the world outside was darkening with nightfall. Scout had been the only one not to show, and Pyro had already told them he knew. Medic had delivered the information, and the expectancy, and they were each trying to absorb the information in their own way. The very idea that Medic could not heal one little woman was absurd to Heavy, but he was not a doctor, so he simply trusted when the man had said he'd done everything he knew.

"There's got to be somethin'," Demo had drunk his weight in liquor already, and was swaying in his seat, but he was still present of mind, which was more than could be said for most drunks. "Can't they do somethin' up a' Teufort? Modern med'cine?"

"We already have advanced medical tools," Engie stated, shaking his head, "I wouldn't want to disturb them just to try and make her comfortable in a different place."

"I spoke with her when she was lucid, briefly," Medic stated, "She said if they cannot heal the injury then what would be the purpose in relocating her? The Medibeam is prolonging her more than anything they have could. She has moments of waking, where you can have brief conversations. It is... the best that can be done, I am afraid."

Heavy kept his gaze on the ground, his brow furrowed as though he was thinking. Truly, he wasn't - he was simply still trying to accept the fact that this had happened. And that the people responsible were getting away with it.

A door slamming jolted everyone out of reverie, and someone passed the doorway to the area - but even the brief glimpse confirmed it was Scout, and he had armed himself.

"Scout, where are you going?"

"Play ball,"

Heavy was standing, following Spy to the doorway even as the old man beat him there and grabbed the little runner by the shoulder.

"Hey - get off me!" Scout shoved Spy back as Heavy stepped into the corridor, but Spy had already wrenched the Soda Popper out of Scout's grasp, waving it in front of him.

"You do not play ball with guns, Scout," Spy snapped, "Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna put two rounds in the asshole that did this to her!" He snapped, snatching his gun back, "And I'm gonna make sure he ain't comin' back from it!"

"They're linked up with us," Engie had also followed Spy into the corridor, "You can't kill them without--"

"I'll check myself out on the way," Scout replied, still not backing down. Heavy stared at him, seeing someone full of anger and eager for revenge. "That bastard's gotta pay, and I figure I'm the best one to give it back to him!"

"And what if he puts two rounds in you first, hm?" Spy demanded, "You forget - checking out is just as dangerous for you as it is for him!"

"I don't care, so long as I take that son of a bitch down with me!"

Heavy shoved Spy aside, not gently, and placed a hand on Scout's shoulder heavily. The smaller man staggered with the force, and tried to shake Heavy's hand off as he turned to Spy.

"I will handle this. Scout, come."

He didn't wait for a response, and ignored Scout's protest as he half-dragged him down the corridor. Once rounding a corner, Heavy finally allowed Scout to shove his hand away.

"What the hell--?"

"You want revenge," Heavy stated, "This, I understand. I want this also. But revenge is best when you survive it. You? You will not survive. You rush, get angry. You end things quickly, and this is revenge - but it is not repayment."

Scout set his jaw, glaring at Heavy, but thank god he had shut up long enough and listened. Scout talked too much and didn't listen enough, but Heavy guessed, having met his brothers, that it was because he was so used to never being listened to himself.

"So, what're you saying? You'll help me?"

"We will take this other Scout and make him pay," Heavy agreed, "Come."

He knew Scout would follow him, keeping up easily as he strode along the corridor, asking questions all the while. It took longer than he expected for Scout to realise where they were headed, and Heavy put a hand on his shoulder once he sensed the younger balk.

"We're not--" Scout cut himself off as they stopped in front of one of the doors in the medical wing. Medic had already told them where to find her, and Heavy felt Scout trying to resist even as he opened the door.

"It will help," he told his comrade, giving him a little push, "It always helps."

Scout froze up as Heavy tried to shove him into the room. No. No, no, no, no, no - he didn't want to be here, didn't want to see this. Seeing this would mean admitting it was happening and there was still a part of him that was certain it wasn't, that was sure Medic would figure something out or that, that Engie would make some sort of machine, or-- or--

Heavy gave him another push, probably thinking he was being gentle but it was enough to make Scout stumble. and when he looked up he froze up again. He wanted to run away, be anywhere but here. This was worse than seeing that teleporter explode with his Ma still standing on the damn thing, worse than not being able to stay with her in Teufort.

Medic must've changed her out of the blouse and skirt, because she was in a plain surgery gown. The medibeam was surrounding her with a faint glow, but she still looked weak. Her glasses were on a small table to one side, along with her other belongings - the phone thing, a pocket notebook, her radio. She looked pale, and her breathing was raspy, and _he didn't want to be here_ but Heavy was blocking the door and Spy's words earlier rang in his head and as much as he hated being here, he knew why Heavy had forced him to do it, because he was angry at everything and if he didn't say it before she... well, _before_ , then he'd just be angry with everything even more and when had he walked to her side?

Scout felt her hand under his, and at his touch she stirred. Maybe she was okay? No - she could barely keep her eyes open, and couldn't focus on his face properly as she tried to see who it was.

"Scout?"

Even her voice was weak, and why were his eyes getting blurry? No, they weren't allowed to do that. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, wrapping both hands around hers as he forced a smile.

"Heya, Miss Pauling,"

She relaxed, even gave him a tiny smile, but it was obvious she was weak, and tired. She did try to squeeze his hand though, but it was so minor that he almost didn't notice. Scout wished his eyes would stop being all blurry.

"We never went on that date," she said softly. Christ, of all the things, she was gonna remind him of that _now_? "Sorry. I was looking... forward... to it..."

Her voice trailed off, and he had to clear his throat because of the lump in it. "Hey, no, that's okay - we both got busy doin' stuff and then the robots and then... yeah," he cleared his throat again, and dared to wipe at his eyes with one hand. Oh great, now his nose was starting to run. He must be getting sick - it totally wasn't because he was crying. Guys don't cry. Hell no. "We can do it later, sometime. When you're better."

Of course he had to do that, pretend that there was still a chance. Of freakin' course. And, of course, she was a realist and she knew. The little frown she gave him, the way she opened her mouth to reply, to tell him, it all told him that she knew she wouldn't be getting better. But instead of reminding him, she relaxed, gave him another little smile.

"That'd be sweet," she replied, her voice barely a whisper. Scout rubbed at his eyes again, forcing himself another smile. What the frick was he meant to say now?

"You, uh... get some sleep," he told her, "Just rest. You got hurt pretty bad, but... I'm sure Medic'll figure it out. You'll be up and about in no time, and then we'll go on that date. Okay?"

"'Kay,"

She closed her eyes, still smiling weakly, and he hesitated a moment before leaning over and kissing her forehead. It was easier to pretend like everything he said was the truth, easier to lie. Saying it was the end... he just couldn't. It was why he was also forcing himself not to think of his other four brothers, or basically anyone beyond what his world had now come down to.

A sharp ringing sound jerked him out of his thoughts, and he looked over to see the phone thing lighting up with a phonecall. Anxious that it might disturb Miss Pauling, he snatched it up and answered the call - something he'd learned to do the day before, while driving to Teufort.

" _Miss Pauling, it's Greene. I just got some reports of something that happened at the airfield - was that your group?_ "

Oh, it was the sheriff guy. Scout backed out of the room, realising Heavy had left him alone. Hurriedly, he wiped his eyes again as he saw the big guy waiting for him just outside.

"Uh, Sheriff, hi," he cleared his voice, so it didn't sound like he was sick, because he was definitely sick and _not_ crying. "Uh, Miss Pauling can't really talk right now. It's Scout," he added.

" _Scout? Oh, Jeremy - hi. I heard your Ma's doing a lot better, that's good news._ " He sounded like he was happy to talk to Scout, which was a small comfort. Usually people hated him talking when they were looking for someone else. He figured that was just rude and always ignored them. "Uh, where's Miss Pauling right now? Is she busy? I just needed to cross-check some information - bunch of schoolkids were out that way on a field trip, heard and saw some things they thought was a problem."

"Oh, uh," Scout looked at Heavy, who was scowling. This wasn't really his sort of thing to do, but Spy was the only one who'd take over and he didn't want to talk to Spy right now. "Yeah, that was us. We were trying to get Hale to, uh, Phoenix, but had some problems. Another group, I guess you could say."

Had Miss Pauling already told him about the clones? Scout heard him swearing softly on the other end of the line.

" _Look, when's Miss Pauling gonna be available? I really need to talk to her about this - if there's another group in the area, we need to know about it here, even if you guys are handling it._ "

Shit. Scout grimaced, glancing back at the open doorway. "Actually, uh... I don't think she's gonna be able to... talk about it. Not right now." Or ever.

That thought set him off again, but Heavy was watching him, so he screwed his face up and tried to talk past the lump in his throat. He could hear footsteps approaching behind him, but it was bad enough Heavy could see this, let alone anyone else. He'd never live it down if Soldier or Demo saw it.

" _What do you mean? Did she get hurt?_ " Greene clearly had decided to ask the worst case scenario first. Scout saw Medic out of the corner of his eye, and held the phone out to him.

"You tell him," he told Medic, keeping his face turned away, "He's asking to speak to Miss Pauling."

Heavy saw the confusion on Medic's face as he took the phone, holding it to his ear. He didn't entirely listen to what Medic said, having already heard it, instead looking at Scout. He'd clearly been crying, but Heavy decided that, since he was obviously embarrassed about it, he would not say anything about this.

"It helps, you see?" He asked. Scout nodded, still wiping at his face furiously, sniffling.

"Damn, must be some sort of..." he cleared his throat, "I must be coming down with something."

"Yes. This is probable," Heavy agreed. He was hurting enough - let him save face.

"I see,"

The coldness in Medic's voice made Heavy and Scout both look at him. "Yes, if you think-- Yes, of course. Please. We will take any help we can get."

"What'd he want?" Scout asked as Medic handed the phone back to him. Scout knew how to use the thing, obviously. Medic's face was blank.

"The Sheriff says that they may be able to help," Medic replied, "Apparently, there are procedures that have been learned in modern medicine. Depending on her case, she may survive."

"Really?" Scout looked eager, and glanced back, "Then we gotta get her to Teufort!"

"The Sheriff is sending an ambulance," Medic replied, "It was attending a house call, it will be here in fifteen minutes. We must prepare her to be moved."

"I'll go tell the others!" Scout volunteered, not even waiting for a reply before racing off. Heavy saw how Medic's shoulders slumped once their young comrade was gone, and raised an eyebrow.

"Teufort can heal Miss Pauling," he stated, "This is good, no?"

"Yes, of course!" Medic agreed, looking up as if shocked Heavy could think it was anything but.

"Then why is Doctor not happy like Scout?"

Medic gave a single laugh as he looked along the corridor after Scout. "Yes, of course. It is wonderful news, that they might be able to save her." He glanced up at Heavy as he started into the room, and saw Heavy's expression, making an irritated noise. "Fine! It is upsetting to me that my own lack of education would have led to Miss Pauling's death!"

Heavy touched Medic on the shoulder. "Many things changed. Is not your fault."

"But medical practices should have been the _first_ \--"

"Is not your fault, Doctor," Heavy insisted, "You know now. You learn now. You know for next time."

"Let us hope something like this never has a "next time"," Medic replied. Heavy had to agree there.

* * *

 

Antonia exchanged a glance with Jesse as Sheriff Greene hung up, sighing thunderously. Her dad sometimes did that when he was worried or annoyed.

"What happened?" She asked. Greene shook his head, burying his face in his hands as he leaned on the desk.

Of course, being a science fiction fan, Antonia had barely been able to keep the secret of the newly-returned TF Industries staff a secret, and the boys had greatly embellished their own retelling of the events of Friday night, including how Jacob had been shot (at first, it had been him diving in front of a bullet to protect one of the others, but had quickly turned into the chilling reminder of his one-on-one wrestling battle with a man twice his size, armed with lethal knife and a giant sawn-off.

Amber and Antonia had both been quick to dispel that rumour, and one of the kids whose father was the doctor that had treated Jacob said it was only a shotgun pellet that had hit him - and obviously at a distance, since up close it would have ripped his arm off.

The story about the time travellers was met with marked skepticism, but the people that mattered knew Antonia wouldn't lie about something like that - and anyway, Jamie Boston had been helping his dad with the two cars the TF people had been driving, and said neither of them looked to have run since before any of them were even born. Apparently it was a miracle neither had blown up, especially since the second had been driven at some ridiculous speed and crashed into the gate.

Obviously, even the skeptics had had to agree that hearing explosions at the old airfield - less than two miles from the site they'd been at - and the very obvious emergency take-off of one of the old passenger jets was suspicious. The teacher had called it in and ordered them all back onto the bus, and they'd driven back to town - where Antonia and Jesse had quickly met up and gone straight to Sheriff Greene.

After all, the teacher hadn't thought it important enough to notify the Sheriff that there might be a war on their doorstep.

"Thanks for coming straight here," Greene told the pair of them, "Uh... Yeah, there was some sort of skirmish at the airfield, but the plane had friendlies on it," he told them. "But, in the fighting, Miss Pauling apparently got hurt and their medic doesn't know how to do keyhole surgery. Not surprising, really - he's from the seventies. They still thought homosexuality was a mental illness back then."

He gave Jesse a pointed look, and Jesse shifted uncomfortably. Antonia made a mental note to ask him about it later.

"Is Miss Pauling gonna be okay?" She asked, "She was so nice, and easily the smartest of that whole group,"

"Smart enough to lie to and not trust the other deputies," Greene admitted, "I'll have to get Jan onto an article about it, get information out there to stop folks panicking. As for Miss Pauling, I don't know. That's why I sent one of the med units their way - they'll bring her in and we'll get our best onto it. Hopefully it's not too late. Their doctor didn't even know you can fix collapsed lungs."

"I mean, that's not an easy thing," Antonia pointed out, "But... if it _is_ too late, you can't just let her die."

"No way," Jesse agreed, "What'd those mercs be like without her keeping them in line? Ant's right - if the docs can't help her, we have to."

Greene gave them both an even glare. "And how do you suggest we do that? Antonia, you're the medical intern here - how would you handle it?"

Antonia felt Jesse's eyes on her as she thought about it. "If the doctors say she can't be helped, and then she starts to recover, they're gonna suspect something," she stated, "So, if we do anything, we have to assess the condition first, before the doctors, and make a call. And then implement whatever idea without them noticing, probably also while she's in surgery."

Greene was nodding slowly. "How do we do it safely? Exposure causes the system to become addicted."

"Carefully measured dose, slip it to her probably in a blood transfusion," that was an easy question, and Antonia was proud of herself for already knowing the answer. She glanced at Jesse, who was nodding.

"I could probably sneak a liquid microgram into one of the blood supply bags," he volunteered, "I'd just need it."

Greene was shaking his head. "Even a microgram might cause withdrawal. We don't want that, do we?"

"But any less and it might not be effective," Jesse argued.

"There's always the charms," Antonia suggested, and Greene pointed at her, nodding.

"Good girl. Now, we can't do it immediately, obviously. Not outright."

"She wears glasses," Jesse recalled, "And keeps that derringer on her, pretty much all the time. She didn't think we noticed it, but Amber even agreed she didn't even declare it to the gatekeeper."

"Replace a component of it or do something with her glasses?" Antonia was nodding, liking both of these ideas, "She's probably gonna be here soon - we need to get to work."

Sheriff Greene was smiling at them, and gestured. "Alright, both of you get to the med centre. I'll get those doses."


	15. Giger Counter

**_MANN CO. CEO DEAD_ **

"Freak accident, they were sayin'," Sniper explained to the nurse, gesturing to the headline on the newspaper, "That's what ya get for not fixin' the windows in forty-odd years, I guess. One wrong step and you're fallin' thirty storeys. Stroke of luck that Hale bloke was around to take charge, or else the place would've just gone into meltdown."

"And what does a shepherd from the Outback know about business?" The nurse teased. Sniper shrugged modestly.

"Not a lot, only that if there's nobody to take charge when the leader falls, the whole place crumbles," he gave her a bit of a sadder grimace, "Me dad passed away when I was younger. Mum always said if it weren't for her mate steppin' in and takin' over the farm, we'd have ended up in Penrith instead'a stayin' outback."

The nurse was called away, and shot Sniper an apology before she went to answer her colleague. She'd been too nosy, anyway - Sniper had only been chatting her up to keep her from talking to Medic.

He and Medic were in plain clothes, but even so it was difficult for Medic as his RED counterpart had already become friendly with some of the staff. They knew it'd been possible trouble to send in Medic, but it wasn't like Spy could be seen here, and the idea of sending Soldier, Demo, Heavy or Pyro was just laughable. Besides, none of them could really understand the information that they were chasing.

Sniper meandered along the corridor towards the room where Miss Pauling was being kept. Obviously the doctors had fixed her up, and obviously she was going to be just fine, which was all good and dandy - much as Sniper hated to admit it, though, having her on their side made the REDs a real threat. Spy had insisted on sending Medic to check her out, and Sniper and Benji had gone with him to try and provide cover. Sniper had never really been able to stand the guy, not since he'd basically filled Sniper's body with weird animal crap that made it virtually impossible to ever seek medical attention from a real doctor, so he was grateful for Benji's insistence on joining them.

He hesitated at the door, tapping a knuckle softly against the doorframe before entering. Despite her being the key weapon to their enemies, Sniper couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the lady.

"It's remarkable," Medic stated softly, "Even by these reports, she should not have survived. The combined use of the Medibeam and these modern surgical practices would not have been enough. See here," he pointed to a line under a section titled SURGERY NOTES, "There was far too much cell death and tissue death in the lungs for there to be much hope of proper healing - and that's just the start! There must be something else at play - and this is not an uneducated guess speaking," he added, "This woman should not be alive. She lost too much blood, collapsed a lung, the bullet even lodged in the breastplate. Her body would not be able to heal from such a thing, especially not at such a rate."

It had been two days since the airfield, and Scout had sworn black and blue that he had shot her and she should be dead. Spy, however, had reported the ambulance's arrival bearing the dying woman, and her recovery, causing one of the biggest issues of contention among their group. The fact that Hale had gotten away was almost negligible if Pauling was removed from the picture, but here she was, alive and... well, not healthy yet but definitely well on the way to recovery. In fact, more on the way to recovery than they had anticipated.

Medic shook his head. "This is not good. We will have to move to the secondary plan - but I doubt there would be as much failure in that one."

"At least they didn't figure the reason we were really there," Sniper admitted, flinching as someone outside the door called out. He was expecting someone from RED to show up at any moment and blow their cover, and gunfights and hospitals generally didn't mix well. "Alright, let's get out of here - last thing we need is you runnin' into your good side."

"I agree,"

Medic replaced the folder at the end of the bed and followed Sniper out of the room, both of them looking around as they moved through the medical centre. The car was waiting for them in the parking lot, Benji relaxing in the drivers' seat while reading a local newspaper. He looked up as the pair returned, folding the paper to show them an article he'd been reading.

"Townsfolk are catchin' on that something's not right," he announced, as Sniper took the page.

**_Gunfight At Airfield Injures One_ **

"Nah, it's only sayin' they encountered resistance," Sniper pointed out, "Get this - " _The team reportedly encountered trouble from a group of survivalists who were attempting to scrap the aircraft, and were forced to remove the last functional aircraft via emergency take-off._ " Well, at least they didn't blow our cover,"

"Maybe so, but the fact the town is being kept informed could cause problems for us," Medic said thoughtfully, "We will have to discuss this with--"

"" _The team's supervisor was treated at Teufort Medical for gunshot wounds and is currently in a stable condition. She is expected to make a full recovery._ " How do they know that if she's hardly even woken up yet?"

"So she'll be fine?" Benji asked, and Sniper caught the hint of relief in his voice.

"Looks like. Wait, when was--" Sniper checked the date on the page and swore, "This was printed yesterday! How'd they know so soon? Doc?"

Medic was frowning as he pulled the paper from Sniper's grip, shaking her head. "All of her charts and notes indicated that her condition was indeterminable until sometime late last night. This... There is no way they could have known for certain, unless..."

"Unless _what_ , Doc?" Benji asked. Medic gave them a helpless look.

"The only thing I can think of that would have such curative properties is Australium, but where would anybody get that if it was all depleted forty years ago?" He said carefully. Benji and Sniper sat in silence for a few minutes, absorbing this information and mulling it over.

"Maybe it wasn't all depleted forty years ago," Sniper said thoughtfully, "Maybe... maybe there's some that we just didn't know about, kept somewhere "safe", for emergencies like what they just had."

"Then why wouldn't they have given it to her at the base instead of moving her here?" Benji mused, before opening his door. "I got a way we can know for sure."

Sniper watched as he opened the back door and rattled around in his toolbox for a moment. He'd rolled his eyes when Benji had insisted on bringing the damn thing, but he had to admit it would be handy if the car broke down at some point during the forty-minute drive between the town and the base.

"Got it!"

Benji straightened up, showing them what looked like a Geiger counter, with a few wires and a couple of extra dials on the sides. Sniper and Medic exchanged confused glances.

"What is it?" Sniper asked as Benji fiddled with it. It began crackling faintly, and a soft whining sound wavered in pitch as he moved it back and forth, closer to his own body.

"Australium gives off ionizin' radiation, just like most radioactive metals, but it's not really harmful like normal radiation," he explained, looking at the pair. "What, you think _all_ stupidly masculine Australians inject that stuff? Nah. Most of 'em are just affected by proximity,"

"Me parents' place was nowhere near any of the Australium mines," Sniper recalled, "Apparently we were in a dead spot, where there was none growing."

"If you had been, you'd probably look like Hale," Benji agreed, fiddling with the counter, "We've been exposed to it in a diluted form, since it's used for the teleporters, respawn, even as a power source for all the bases and compounds." As if to demonstrate this, he waved the Geiger counter closer to Sniper, then Medic. The whine increased in pitch the closer it got to the pair. "Not enough to actually change us, I'd guess, but enough that it still registers."

"So if she's been dosed with Australium, that device will tell us?" Medic asked. Benji nodded, handing it over to Sniper.

"You already know the effects of Australium on the body," he told Medic, who had begun to smirk.

"If they gave her a concentrated dose, which they may have, then she would need to be kept dosed, _ja_?"

"Or keep her close enough to be affected by the radiation," Benji nodded. Sniper took the counter and looked at it. "That'll tell you whether she's got any in her system. The higher that pitch, the more there is, and the crackling means there's a solid lump of it somewhere. Try and remember the highest number it shows and tell me when you get back. We'll wait here; shouldn't take you too long."

Sniper only cottoned on to what he was saying at the last minute, and looked up in alarm. "Me? Why me?"

"You attract less attention than either of us," Benji reasoned, "And it'd be less likely for their Sniper to be here, so you won't run into him."

Sniper muttered bitterly as he pocketed the device and climbed out of the car, crossing back across the open expanse and entering the medical centre again. He found Miss Pauling's room again, and checked the corridor outside, then made sure she was still asleep before closing the door.

Okay. How did Benji do this? Sniper fiddled with the dial, before waving the counter in front of himself. That same low humming sounded, and he turned the device, holding it above Miss Pauling's sleeping form, breath held as he listened.

The pitch was much higher than it had been with him and Medic, and the number on the screen was in double digits - Sniper hurriedly memorised it as he swept the counter over her twice more.

A soft knock at the door startled him, and he hurriedly tucked the device away as a young nurse peered into the room, smiling. Sniper thought he recognised her, but couldn't figure anywhere he might have met her before.

"Oh, sorry!" She gave him a sheepish smile, "I-I hope I'm not interrupting--"

"No, go ahead," Sniper gestured vaguely, stepping back. The girl looked like she was in her mid-teens, and was wearing the plain green outfit that most of the nurses here seemed to wear. A pocket watch was pinned to a breast pocket, and her blonde hair pulled back into a neat bun. The name badge read VOLUNTEER.

"It's Sniper, right?" She asked, making Sniper uncomfortably aware of the fact she knew him but he-- "I'm Antonia. I was... there, I guess, when you guys came through."

Oh, right. Sniper managed a smile, taking his hat off. "How's your friend, the boy that got shot?"

"Driving his mom insane with his ego, as usual," Antonia chuckled as she moved over to the bedside, "Sorry, I've just gotta check Miss Pauling's blood pressure and temperature, then I'll be out your hair,"

"Nah, take all the time you need," Sniper waved a hand as she pulled a machine over to the bedside. He watched, curious, as she wrapped the band around Miss Pauling's upper arm, and pressed a button on the machine. He waved a hand at the machine. "So that... takes blood pressure and temperature?"

"Only BP," she replied, giving him a little smile as she took another device from the basket beneath the machine, "This one takes the external temperature,"

She placed a narrow tube against Miss Pauling's neck, just below her jawline, and held it there as the machine beeped. Curious, Sniper moved forward to look at the device, getting close to the teenager.

The Geiger counter emitted a loud crackling sound, almost like static from a radio, and Sniper swore as he fumbled in his pocket, turning to hide it from the nurse-girl's view as he figured out how to switch it off. She was watching him as he turned back, forcing a smile.

"Sorry, left my radio on, I guess."

"Oh, I forget to turn my phone off _all_ the time," she replied, waving a hand, "Don't worry, the radio waves only interfere with the super old stuff."

She took the tube (was it a thermometer? Is that what they looked like now?) away from Miss Pauling's neck, grabbing the chart from the bedside table and noting something in, checking the machine and noting that down, before undoing the strap and stowing the items back in place. Sniper caught sight of a golden glimmer beneath her blouse and frowned as she turned back to look at him.

"Something wrong?"

"Your necklace," he stated, gesturing, "It's nice,"

"This?" She chuckled, pulling the heavy-looking pendant out from under her shirt, "It's an old family thing. Used to be my grandmother's, and apparently it belonged to her mother before that. Mom hates me wearing it because she's convinced it picked up some sort of radiation what with all the bomb testing around here and whatnot. I think it's a lucky charm, though," she grinned, and Sniper found himself grinning back at her. What were the chances the necklace was made of Australium?

There was another soft knock at the door - did all these bloody women knock quietly, Sniper wondered - and another nurse poked her head into the room.

"Toni, you're needed in the ward,"

"Ugh, sorry," Antonia the Nurse waved at Sniper as the other nurse disappeared, "I'd stay and chat, but... yeah. Maybe I'll see you around again?"

"Probably," Sniper smiled, nodding his head, "I should probably get moving, too. Gotta get back to base..."

Antonia nodded, waving as she slipped out of the room, and Sniper glanced back at Miss Pauling. Wait, had something changed? He frowned slightly, looking her over, but couldn't see anything about her that was different. She was still laying there, pale as a sheet, glasses taken away so she didn't damage them while she slept--

The glasses.

Sniper couldn't remember seeing them when he'd walked in, or when he'd been in here with Medic just before. He had even looked at the bedside table where the folder was laying. There they were, at the edge of the stand, but they hadn't been there before.

Glancing at the door, Sniper pulled out the counter and turned it on again. Once more, he passed it over Miss Pauling's figure. Still the same readings. He hesitated, before holding the device close to her glasses.

The crackling burst out of the speaker again, fading back as he moved the device away from the glasses, then closer again. It surged in intensity again, confirming his suspicions. And they'd only appeared after that nurse...

Sniper hurried back to the car, diving into the back seat. "Highest reading was eighteen," he stated, "And they did something to her glasses - it got the solid reading. _And_ there's a nurse in there, one of those kids we met the first night, and she's got a solid Australium necklace that's supposedly an heirloom."

Benji had started the car and they took off out of the parking lot behind the medical centre. Medic was frowning in concentration.

"You could simply have taken the glasses," he remarked, "That would have a similar effect to the withdrawal of the chemical. It would likely destabilise her condition, at the very least."

"That's not the concern any more, Doc," Benji told the pair as he took a back street for the edge of town, "Think about it. She didn't get dosed until she was _in_ Teufort. There's at least one person here who owns something of Australium, and if it's that little blonde piece from the first night, she'd know the value of it and would know it's made of Australium. We gotta talk to the others about this. If there's solid Australium around here, we need to get our hands on it."

"For respawn?" Sniper asked, "I thought you said you could work around that?"

"Maybe. But it'd take longer to set up, and there's no chance the REDs will back down on their "kill the clones" plan, or even wait." Benji sighed heavily as they pulled up to the gate. "The sooner we can get a reliable, independent respawn for ourselves, the better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I've had a hell of a week with other projects and working stuff and whatnot, and it's kinda led to, well, a wall. I'm going to try and push through and get the next chapter out over the weekend sometime, but I can't promise at this point.
> 
> Until then, just... keep comments rolling and share this around. Maybe toss out some things you want to see?
> 
> Also, I'm learning SFM and I'm planning to create a series of posters that form a sort of comic for the whole thing, idk. Reckon it's a good idea? Let me know.


	16. Lugermorph

Miss Pauling was drifting in and out of consciousness by the end of Thursday, which was a few days earlier than the doctors had anticipated, and was lucid by Friday lunchtime. Not being the type to sit still or remain idle, she didn't take it too well when her main doctor - a kind guy that insisted she call him Nick - told her she was on bed rest for at least the rest of the week, and was irritable until Scout and Medic showed up.

"Everybody's been pretty worried," Scout admitted, claiming the chair beside her bed while Medic checked her over - for his own peace of mind, apparently. "Spy won't let more than two or three of us come into town all at once, and I don't think the Sheriff likes him so he's really tough on who's allowed. Soldier has basically been banned from town altogether."

"Probably best," Miss Pauling agreed. Not for the first time, she thought of how Sheriff Greene seemed to have his finger on the pulse of... well, everything. She'd heard just how it was pure coincidence that an ambulance had been attending a house call not far from the RED base (even though Spy had reported that a search of the area had revealed no residential locations in the area), and he seemed to already know all the publicly accessible information on the mercs.

"You are making excellent progress with your recovery," Medic stated, looking over the doctor notes, "I believe the continuous use of the Medigun, coupled with your exposure to Australium in the past, has proven to be an advantage and may have stimulated your system into regenerating at a pace unrivalled by even the healthiest modern miracle patients."

"You hear that?" Scout grinned at her, ""Miracle patient" - that's you! When can we expect ya back at base, do you think?"

"Probably not for a while," Miss Pauling told him, "I might be a "miracle patient", but I can't even sit up on my own yet,"

This was true - she had tried to sit up that morning and had pulled painfully at the stitches that were apparently holding everything together inside of her abdomen. It had been like getting stabbed, and she had collapsed onto her pillows, crying out loudly enough to bring the nearest nurse running.

"I've been told Miss Pauling will be staying with us for at least a week," a familiar voice stated from the doorway. Scout and Medic both turned their attention to Sheriff Greene as he entered, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over the back of one of the chairs. "I've got an hour break, figured I'd stop by. How're you feeling?" He asked Miss Pauling.

"Still sore," she admitted. She didn't see any point in lying - partially because Greene had probably already gotten the updates from the doctor. Wasn't there some sort of law against that? She'd have to look into it later. "I'm not as fatigued as I expected, though."

"Yeah, you'll be up and walking by the end of the week, Nick reckons," Greene reassured her, "Maybe sooner if you keep recovering this fast. That's actually why I dropped by," he gave her a slightly sheepish grin, "I was thinking, whenever you're up to it, we could go do that dinner I asked you about. What do you say?"

Medic's head snapped up at Greene's remark, and Miss Pauling caught the sudden tension in Scout's posture. But the way he had said it so casually, surely they'd realise it wasn't anything special? She nodded, managing a small smile.

"Well, you know where I am," she told him, gesturing to the room, "We can work something out once I know when I'll be allowed out."

"Hopefully that won't be too long," Greene replied with a smile. "How are you boys doing?" He asked Scout and Medic, looking between the two. Medic had returned his attention to the report he'd been reading, but looked up with a too-wide smile. Scout was looking away, frowning slightly as though he was thinking about something.

"We are doing quite well, thank you," Medic replied politely, but Miss Pauling caught the edge in his voice. "Everyone is well and we are staying well away from the town, as you would undoubtedly much prefer,"

Greene recognised the challenge, and shifted slightly. "I mean, some of your teammates probably wouldn't... fit well around here. Obviously you're fine, both of you,"

"Naw, we get it," Scout said acidly, "Spent enough time around my brothers to know when we ain't welcome someplace,"

"Scout, that's not what he was saying," Miss Pauling spoke up, frowning slightly as Scout stood up. He'd had a hand resting on hers the entire time he'd been sitting next to her bed, and his fingers brushed against her arm as he looked over at Medic.

"I'm gonna go see my Mom. You know where I'll be,"

"Scout--"

Greene didn't say anything, stepping aside as Scout brushed past him on his way out, but he looked between the retreating Scout and Miss Pauling, clearly confused.

"If I'm... overstepping anything--"

"You are not," Medic stated, closing the medical report folder abruptly as he looked at Greene coolly. He set the folder on the bedside table, giving Miss Pauling a nod. "I will take my leave. Nickolas has offered to discuss medical practices during his breaks, and I plan to take every opportunity to re-skill. I will drop by before I leave."

Miss Pauling and Greene both watched him go, Miss Pauling confused at both mercenaries' sudden change in attitude. Greene arched an eyebrow at her, jerking his head towards the door through which both had departed.

"I don't think I'm very popular with your friends," Greene stated, sitting in the chair he'd draped his jacket over, "Should I try taking them out to dinner as well?"

Miss Pauling sighed heavily, closing her eyes as she forced herself to relax. "I don't know. i think..." She let out a sigh of frustration, "I promised to go on a date with Scout a few years ago, and we just never got the chance to do so. We... I think he's got it in his head again that we're back on. I don't know," she groaned, "We... I think we had a moment at the base, before you called. He was trying, I guess, to say goodbye, and... instead we promised to make the time to go for that date."

Greene raised his hands, as if in surrender. "Hey, I'm not gonna try and stop you. You're a grown woman, Miss Pauling. And, like I said, our "date" is literally just me getting to know you, and you getting to know the year 2017. You two probably already have a deeper connection, a longer-lasting friendship than you and I could get from one date."

"I wish I knew for sure," Miss Pauling sighed, "I'm sorry about the guys; they've been on edge, I guess. It's still sort of confusing, everything that's changed."

Greene chuckled softly, "I don't doubt it for a second. I'd probably be going stir-crazy if I were them. Whole new world to explore and they're being cooped up in those compounds."

"Well, we can't exactly go anywhere with the clones now," Miss Pauling admitted. "And I don't think that's an issue that'll fix itself in a few days, or even weeks. We're... we're fighting against ourselves - well, the guys are, at least."

"So are you," Greene nodded at her injury, "You don't get shot like that unless you're in the thick of it. And really, it was bad luck all 'round - d'you know what the odds are of a bullet ricocheting off a bone are?"

"Not very high, I'm guessing,"

"Almost nonexistent,"

"It broke a rib and did more damage than good," Miss Pauling pointed out, "I just wish I could properly sit up. Amber sent me an email with so many hyperlinks of modern history, but I can barely sit up on my own and I forget to ask every time one of the nurses come in."

Greene was giving her an odd look, pursing his lips, but a chuckle escaped. He leaned over and slid what looked like a remote controller out of a pocket in the side of the bed. A long, coiled cord linked it to something out of Miss Pauling's sight, and Greene pressed one of the buttons. The upper part of the bed began to tilt upwards slowly, pushing Miss Pauling into a sitting position.

"Did nobody show you the bed control or the call button?" He teased, tucking the controller back into the pocket beside the bed, and pulling out a much smaller one with a single button on it, "This one? Press the button and a nurse will swing by as soon as they can. Can't believe nobody told you that."

"I guess they just assumed I'd already know," Miss Pauling pulled out the bed control, looking at the buttons. "It looks very basic - if I'd known it was there, I'd have used it already."

"Well, now you can get some studying done," Greene teased, checking his watch, "Oh, hey, you have an email now?"

"Amber set it up so she can send me all her IT class information," Miss Pauling replied, "She did a thing with the password and my computer, so I don't have to try and remember it too hard. It automatically signs in on the laptop, now."

"Look at you, getting all tech-savvy," Greene teased, glancing at his watch again, "Look, I gotta get going, but I'll probably swing by after I finish. You do that research, get yourself up to speed. Most people these days don't even fart without posting about it on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram - until you know what those things are, you'll always be stuck behind."

He pushed the small table over and set her laptop on it as he spoke, flipping the lid up. Miss Pauling arched an eyebrow at him.

"Everybody else has been telling me to get some rest, but here you are, putting me to work," she smiled a little.

"Nah, I just know you're gonna be fine and on your feet faster than anyone else expects," he replied, "Call it faith, I guess. Could tell right from the get-go that you were a strong lady. If you need anything, you know the drill," he added, "I'll see you later,"

Miss Pauling watched him go, frowning thoughtfully as the laptop loaded. Before even opening the email Amber had sent her, she went straight to Google - something that had become a regular habit upon opening the small computing device - and decided to search up patient confidentiality.

It was a nagging sensation that was quickly increasing the more time she spent here, but Miss Pauling couldn't completely put her finger on it - there was something about Teufort, or at least about its Sheriff, that seemed... not entirely right. So far, she felt the only people she could totally trust might be the first four people she had met from this era - and all four of them were teenagers that were little more than half her age.

Scout didn't return until just before dinner time, looking into the room before slipping in and giving Miss Pauling one of his smaller grins.

"You look better every time I see you," he commented, approaching. Miss Pauling was still on the laptop, going over the notes Amber had sent her, and he took a look at the screen, frowning slightly. "Is that, like... a mini record?"

Miss Pauling stared at him for a moment. "Yeah, they're called CD's, but they're not as common now," she explained, "There's also a type that are for films, too. How did you guess that?"

"Looks like a record," he shrugged, "Only, smaller and shinier. It wasn't hard to figure out. Hey, what's that? Is that like, something for a computer?"

"It's called a flash drive," Miss Pauling couldn't help smiling at him a little. He'd been quick to pick up how to use the mobile phone, too, figuring out some things even she hadn't known despite being shown. "You seem to be pretty onto it with all this new technology,"

"Yeah, my Ma said the same thing when I fixed the TV," he grinned, "I guess it's just a natural gift."

There it was, that confident swagger. He seemed to keep it up most of the time on the base, around the other mercs, but when none of them were around, Miss Pauling had discovered that he was... well, a little whiny but otherwise just like any other youngest child she'd met. How had his duplicate ended up so... uncaring? Unsympathetic? The only word Miss Pauling could think of to accurately describe BLU's Scout was a harsh one, but... no - "evil" definitely summed up the BLU Scout. She had to suppress a shudder just thinking about him.

"You okay?" Scout asked, noticing the movement. She forced a smile, looking up at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she frowned, recalling the earlier incident with the Sheriff. "Scout, I just want you to know, there's nothing going on between Adam and I."

"Adam?" He looked at her blankly, then it clicked, "Oh, you mean Sheriff Greene?"

"We're just... allies, I think," Miss Pauling told him, "He's helped us out a lot. All of us. And that dinner thing he mentioned, it's just two friends. Nothing special."

Scout looked sullen, but forced a smile. "Yeah. I guessed it was something like he asked it, and you figured 'cos he's done so much, you said yeah. I just don't want him to force you into anything if you don't wanna. I don't care how nice he is, if he does anything to you, I'll come after him. Sheriff or not."

Miss Pauling wasn't sure if that was protectiveness or jealousy speaking, but the idea of having someone other than herself be her champion was... weird. Not bad, but it made her feel like she wasn't being trusted to look after herself. "I'm sure I'll be fine, Scout. I can look after myself, remember?" She teased him slightly, "I didn't die when we were on that island."

"I know," Scout shrugged, then grinned slightly, "So, uh... I was figurin' Medic might've already mentioned it, but I was hoping I could stay here the night. With my Ma, obviously. I mean, I can stay here with you if you want, too, I just..."

"Medic's already gone back to base, hasn't he?"

"And he took the car,"

Miss Pauling bit back a sigh. Usually, she would have sent Scout back to base as well, but things were different. More and more, she was being reminded that Scout was the only one whose family was present. "I guess so. Just for tonight, though - you go back with whoever shows up tomorrow, is that clear?"

Scout was grinning excitedly, and nodded. "Absolutely! I'll even bring you something good for breakfast - Ma was saying how the food here ain't the best."

"What are you off to do now, then?" Miss Pauling asked as he stood up, and she realised he wasn't actually wearing his usual red shirt and grey cargo pants. Somewhere, somehow, he'd found a nice pair of jeans and though his shirt was still red, it was a collared polo. His dog tags had been tucked out of sight, and she realised his hair had been styled. How had she not noticed that immediately?

"Me and my brothers are taking Ma out for dinner," he replied, "Josh and Jaicob have both picked up work here and there so between all of us, we've got enough money to splash around on nice stuff for her, finally. The nurses said they might let me come by after hours, so I might drop by after if it's not too late."

"Don't worry if it's too late," Miss Pauling told him, "Spend the time with your family."

"Hey, I was thinkin'," he perched on the edge of her bed again, "We should try and look up the others' families. Like, Heavy's sisters and Demo's mom. Maybe we could do that tomorrow? I'll help you with anything you need, you just gotta tell me."

Miss Pauling eyed him carefully. "That's a very sweet idea, Scout," she said slowly, "I'll probably start now, but we could definitely keep it up tomorrow. But you have a dinner to get to - go," she chuckled, giving him a small shove. He reacted dramatically, as though she was stronger than they both knew her to be, and his goofiness made her laugh, despite the slight pull of the stitches as she did.

"I'll see ya later; if not, tomorrow," he told her. Miss Pauling froze as he leaned in, giving her a small peck on the cheek, but smiled as he straightened up. Such displays of affection were... odd, in her opinion. But maybe she was just used to, well, _not_ showing off feelings.

She pushed the thought away as Scout departed, returning her attention to her laptop. Honestly, it was a good idea Scout had suggested, trying to find everyone's families. She decided to start with Tilly De Groot - Demo's mother was significantly easier to track down than a family of Russians that were used to living off the grid.

 

* * *

 

Miss Pauling woke with a start, gasping for breath and biting back a strangled cry.

It took her a few moments to relax, remembering where she was, and she let out a sigh of relief, relaxing and closing her eyes. In her line of work, nightmares were never a good sign, but already the memories of the dream were starting to slip, flashes of the struggle in the control tower with the BLU Scout fading away with each forced, even breath. The ECG she was connected to was softly blipping in time with her heart, and as she relaxed with closed eyes, she listened to the blips slowing back to normal.

Just a dream, she reminded herself silently. She was definitely alive, definitely safe.

A slight movement startled her, and she looked over in alarm to see a familiar figure standing by the window. She sighed again, recognising the male as light from outside slanted across his face. He was just beyond the light given off by the equipment she was still hooked up to, but even without the light she would have recognised the build.

"What are you still doing here?" She asked, unable to help herself smiling. True to his word, Scout had dropped by after dinner with his family, and she'd shared all she had learned of Internet and computers with him until she'd fallen asleep. The small clock above the door was backlit, and told her that it was just before midnight. She'd only slept two or three hours, but even so, she thought it was sweet that he had decided to hang around. Or weird. She decided to go with sweet - Scout had been displaying a much different side for these past few days, and she was starting to find that she liked this other side.

"Not sleeping well?" He asked, or maybe it was his response. Miss Pauling assumed it was a question, and grimaced as he shifted, his features still mostly in darkness.

"I need to get better at disassociating again," she admitted reluctantly, "I think... the confrontation at the airfield got to me. I was having a bad dream about it."

"Sometimes talking helps," he told her, shifting slightly. This was true - in the early days, she had encouraged the mercs to discuss their days at work with each other, to try and help them get used to the dangers of the job. "What was the dream about?"

She sighed, relaxing onto her pillows. "I was in the control tower. It was just me and the BLU Scout, but... some things were different." She shuddered at the thought, and he began to approach.

"It's not surprising that it's had such an effect. You don't exactly face death every day, Miss Pauling. But it's nice to know I'm on your mind,"

He stepped into the light and Miss Pauling saw the blue shirt. Immediately, her stomach seemed to fall out of her and her heart was in her throat, the ECG's blipping increasing in speed rapidly as he continued to approach, smirking at her. She tried to sit up, but the stitches pulled painfully and she whimpered as she fell back onto the bed.

"Didn't think I'd have such an effect on you, Miss Pauling," he teased, settling on the edge of her bed, one hand on her shoulder, pinning her down. "Now, don't over-exert yourself. You were _very_ lucky to survive our last confrontation. No, that's not happening," he added, reaching out and grabbing her phone off the bedside table where she had been trying to reach it, "No phonecalls, texts, or any of those other great little communiques people have these days."

His grip on her shoulder was tight, fingers digging into her nerves, and she bit back another wince. "What do you want?" She demanded, as he leaned over her and put the phone out of her reach. Could she go for the call button? But that would risk any one of the nurses being on the receiving end of their own gunshot wound - she could clearly see he had both scattergun and pistol.

"Apparently world peace is the flavour of the month, so let's go with that," he replied, smirking at her, "Y'know, I didn't come here to finish you off, if that's why you're wondering. I'm kinda impressed you held your own against me for so long, honestly. You're way smaller, so much weaker - I knew you packed a punch but I didn't think it'd be so impressive."

"If you're not here for me, what _are_ you here for?" Miss Pauling asked. The door to her room was closed, but right at that moment she would have given anything for it to be open. Screw privacy - safety was more valuable to her at that moment.

"There's some little asshole running around giving the pair of us a bad name," BLU's Scout replied, keeping his eyes on her face, "I'm here to deal with him. Screw with his head a bit. Hey, I got an idea," he grinned, leaning closer to her, fingers ghosting across her cheek, "Imagine how crazy it'd drive him to know some of the things I'm thinking of doing to _you_. I think I underestimated your value, Miss Pauling," he chuckled, and she closed her eyes, turning her head away, but his hand was cupping her neck, his touch making her skin crawl. "I could take you from here right now, destroy you slowly and make him watch every second of it. Wouldn't that be fun?"

The ECG blipping was filling her ears as she kept her face turned away, and she would have given anything to be able to at least push him away, but something in her told her not to act, to just sit there, because if she _did_ fight back, there was more chance he'd kill her then and there. If she played along, maybe he would leave her alone, or let her go sooner, or... she was trying to come up with other best-case-scenario things, but honestly she doubted that any situation involving the BLU Scout could have a "best case scenario" at this point.

"He's not here, if that's why you came here." She hated herself for how much her voice was shaking, and the tightness in her throat, the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "I don't know why you--"

"He didn't leave after you fell asleep," BLU's Scout told her, "He stuck around, kept looking at things on that little laptop of yours. He's out somewhere for now, but I think he'll be back. Just you rest up, Miss Pauling, you ain't gotta worry about a thing," he told her, his tone not reassuring at all as he stroked her hair softly, smirking, "I'll be right here."

She tried to ignore his hand on her hair, the way he kept stroking her hair, neck, fingers brushing across her cheek. She had her eyes closed tightly, face turned away from him, and was trying not to let her panic show beyond the elevated heart rate displayed by the ECG. All she could do was hope he was telling the truth about Scout staying over, and pray that he returned soon.

She hated feeling helpless, but this... this was the most helpless she had ever felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm literally writing these on the fly at the moment, so if you catch any errors or inconsistencies, let me know so I can get back in and fix it up.
> 
> Also, comment and tell me what you think of this, the last chapter, the chop and change, etc. Do you think there'll be some sort of Scout vs Greene showdown? Who would win? Who do you want to see win?


	17. Panic Attack

What followed was the longest ten minutes of Miss Pauling's life.

He just _would not shut up_ , and the entire time he was stroking her hair, caressing her cheek, trailing fingers over any part of exposed skin, reminding her that there was absolutely nothing she could do to save herself from this. To think he actually was... _was_ he turned on by it? The idea repulsed her, and she kept her head turned away from him, instead focused on trying not to give in to the tight feeling in her chest, trying not to cry.

"Look at me, Miss Pauling," he told her softly, and she heard the soft clink of metal on metal, before something sharp-edged pressed lightly against her cheek. Knife. He had a knife. Her options of defence had been limited beforehand, with the stitches literally preventing any sort of abdominal movement, but now all those half-formed ideas fled her mind. Reluctantly, she allowed him to turn her head so she was facing him, and she opened her eyes, staring up at him.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked. He trailed the knife point down her cheek lightly, watching her reaction.

"It's fun," he replied, "And, Medic was curious. Wanted to see if torturing our forbears would have an elevated psychological effect. I think... it might," he chuckled softly, stroking her hair again. "Personally? I'd rather just disable respawn altogether and see who out of me and Jeremy wins. But I know nobody else wants to take that risk. Hell, Spy called me stupid when I suggested it. That's the first time we've really disagreed. He let me borrow this knife, too,"

He held up the knife, and Miss Pauling recognised it as Spy's regular butterfly knife. Scout spun it around his fingers almost expertly, grinning at the weapon proudly.

"You know, don't you? About Spy and me?" He chuckled darkly, "Turns out his clone ain't so ashamed of his son's clone. We've been doing a lot of catching up. He even taught me how to use this," he flicked the knife beside her face, and there was a sting across Miss Pauling's cheek as he nicked her skin, still smirking. "Oops - sorry." He said it more like a taunt, but she didn't challenge him.

"That's very good, Scout," she replied softly, not making eye contact, "It's good that you're both getting along."

"Maybe I should tell little Jeremy the truth about his real daddy," BLU Scout smirked, leaning down. His eyes lowered, and she felt the hand that had been resting on her waist stroking her hair again. He was leaning down, so close that he barely even had to whisper. "How do you think he'd handle that? The guy that's about to steal his girl also made his daddy proud."

She saw the door handle turn, the door push open just enough for Scout to slip in, grinning over his shoulder at something.

"Scout--"

He turned and froze, seeing Miss Pauling laying on the bed, his own clone leaning over her, still stroking her hair while he held a knife beside her cheek. BLU Scout smirked at him, and in that moment it became clear to him exactly what Demo, Pyro, and even Spy had been saying. It was obvious the guy was some sort of psycho.

"You don't gotta worry about anything, man," he told Scout, "Me and Miss Pauling here were just having a little date. Shut the door."

His tone changed as he ordered Scout to close the door, and with a glance over his shoulder, Scout obliged. He had no guns on him - he'd had to surrender them at the gate on the way in - and nothing in the room would really make for great melee combat. He had a knife to Miss Pauling, so rushing him was out of the question, and with the scattergun on his hip, Scout knew he wouldn't even get halfway before his head was blown off. And then the guy would be here on his own with Miss Pauling until someone else showed up to help.

"You okay, Miss Pauling?" He asked, slowly approaching. BLU Scout's smirk widened, and Scout clenched his fists, a million ideas of how to destroy the asshole sitting in front of him but none of them viable at this very moment.

"If it ain't the walking disappointment himself," BLU Scout chuckled, looking at Miss Pauling. He kept playing with her hair, though he had taken the knife off her. "Don't you worry, Jeremy, I've been taking _good_ care of her. We've just been talking a little. You know how it is."

Miss Pauling tried again to sit up, gritting her teeth past the pain, but BLU Scout had a hand on her shoulder, roughly shoving her back against her pillows again as he tutted.

"I wouldn't," he told her, taking his eyes off Scout for just a moment. The tone in his voice had changed again, to that dark, warning tone, and she reluctantly laid back, casting a nervous look at Scout. The glare he was giving BLU Scout could have melted steel beams more effectively than jet fuel.

"What the hell do you want?" Scout demanded. BLU Scout chuckled, nodding his head at one of the two chairs beside Miss Pauling's bed.

"Take a seat, Jeremy."

Scout fought with himself internally, hating every fibre of his being for obeying, but he didn't have a choice. He reluctantly settled in the indicated chair, glaring at his clone. "If you lay a single hand on her--"

"Oh, you mean like this?"

He pressed a palm into Miss Pauling's abdomen, and she cried out painfully. Scout made to stand up, but found the point of the clone's knife against his chest, the face so identical to his own grinning at him insatisfaction. Instead, he reached out, covering Miss Pauling's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"How cute," the clone remarked, noticing the gesture, "Y'know what your problem is, Jeremy? You show off your feelings. They're a weakness, y'know - helps your enemies know _exactly_ how to hit you right where it hurts."

"Most people aren't as underhanded as you," Miss Pauling told him, and he smirked, cupping her cheek. Scout grinded his teeth in irritation - he _knew_ this jackass was being so touchy-feely because he knew it was getting under Scout's skin.

"Keep gettin' mouthy and I'll show you just how underhanded I can get," he told her, winking. Scout was on his feet before he even realised it, shoving the knife aside and swinging his fist wildly.

The clone had been ready, and dodged off the bed, quickly finding his feet as he brought the knife around. Scout threw himself back to avoid a slash, crashing into the bedside table, but he ducked under the clone's outstretched arm and pivoted on one foot, grabbing the first thing he could off the other man's person. He barely had time to react as the other Scout spun around, slicing again, and he swung his new weapon.

The familiar weight of his titanium bat struck against the other Scout's hand, and he lunged forward, following the hit with a punch aimed at the other's nose. The clone dodged, but managed to slash the knife across Scout's right arm as he planted himself between the clone and the bed.

The clone backed up, touching his bloody nose with a slight smirk and looking at the blood that covered his fingers. "I guess I forgot, you're actually capable of fighting. Not as useless as I expected, I guess."

Scout didn't respond, glancing at Miss Pauling. Her face was twisted in pain, and she was reaching for something on the bedside table--

He saw movement and dodged the other Scout's uppercut, but the bat slipped from his grasp as he felt the knife tear across his shoulder. He stumbled, regaining his footing but the other Scout had already reclaimed the bat, and he wasn't fast enough to avoid the blow. It glanced off his head, leaving him dazed as he hit the ground, and he was dimly aware of his clone standing above him, bat raised, and prepared himself for the brief pain of a crushed skull--

Excruciating pain tore through his left leg, his knee seeming to explode in a white-hot burning sensation. He was dimly aware of someone screaming, and realised it was himself. He slumped back against the ground, head thrown back as something cold pressed against his windpipe, cutting off his cry. He convulsed with the pain, unaware of anything else for at least a minute, if not longer.

"I'd get rid of that if I were you," the BLU Scout told Miss Pauling, spotting the phone in her shaking hands. She was leaning on one of her elbows, blood already soaking through the bandaging covering her stitches, and she was biting back the urge to scream, but she had the phone. She saw Scout, her Scout, on the floor, had heard the crack of breaking bone as the clone had brought the bat down on his knee, and she was certain that the phone had picked up the sound as well.

"Lose it," he said more clearly, glaring straight at her. Reluctantly, she dropped the phone onto the chair beside the bed, praying that the line stayed open. Exhausted, she collapsed onto the bed, everything in her body in pain, and closed her eyes as BLU Scout lifted the bat again. Scout's cry of pain was choked off into a rasping noise, and she heard the bat hit the floor. She opened her eyes, watching as the BLU Scout leaned over his twin with a sick grin, knife in hand.

"You won't die from this," he told Scout, "Not permanently. I mean, I wish you would, but we don't always get what we want, do we?"

Miss Pauling had seen people stabbed thousands of times, but this time it was almost like she felt the knife entering her own body.

He aimed low, stabbing into Scout's diaphragm, and forced the blade up to the base of his sternum. He twisted the knife, and the pain from the wound was clear in Scout's expression. Laying on the bed, limp, there was absolutely nothing Miss Pauling could do. He was holding up Scout by the front of his shirt, and she could see the bruising already forming on his throat, blackening quickly. He stared at his clone, as a trickle of blood spilt from the corner of his mouth, the rasping noises drowning out with a gurgling sound.

BLU dumped him on the ground, pulling the knife out of his chest and wiping it on Scout's jeans. Blood was pooling around him and it was clear that he wasn't dead yet, his mouth still opening and closing, body still shuddering as it fought for breath. Miss Pauling forced herself to look away as BLU Scout stood up, leering down at his forbear.

"If only it was permanent," he remarked, before looking over his shoulder at Miss Pauling. She froze up as he turned to fully face her, knife still in hand, and started forwards. "Now, we had some unfinished business--"

He didn't get more than a few steps before there was a familiar de-cloaking sound. He didn't react fast enough, before Spy had buried his own knife, handle-deep, into the BLU Scout's spine. He froze, arms spasming out to the sides as his spinal column was sliced in two. From where she lay, Miss Pauling saw Spy pull the knife out, and stab a second time, in the back of the neck.

BLU Scout was dead before he hit the floor.

In all her life, Miss Pauling had never cried after a confrontation. Death, blood, gore - these were things that surrounded her daily, and she had been around them so much that she had become desensitised to them. So it was a shock to Spy when the young woman burst into tears as she collapsed back on the bed, sobbing almost hysterically. Of course, his natural reaction was to not care, but he had witnessed everything from the moment Scout had entered, slipping in through the open door before it had been closed.

Spy did something he had never, ever expected to find himself doing ever again. He crossed to the bed, and hugged Miss Pauling as gently as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked at the word count and realised how daunting it can be to see something that averages 2.5-3k words per chapter, so I'm trying to cut back just that little bit. Maybe. Hopefully?
> 
> Comment thoughts and things you'd like to see, as this gives me inspiration for future, if not future chapters then future works. Enjoy!


	18. L'Etranger

Working as a nurse and an unofficial intern, Antonia Rex had seen dead bodies.

But nothing prepared her for walking into a hospital room and finding two _identical_ dead bodies both bleeding out on the floor.

At the same moment she had noticed the blood seeping out from under the door to the room, opened it, and been met with the sight, Sheriff Greene had apparently been entering the medical centre with Deputy Suarez and one other, guns drawn, ready for a confrontation.

Antonia knew enough about shock to know that it was the reason Suarez steered her out of the room, sat her down at the nurses' station, and draped a blanket around her shoulders. She had enough presence of mind to recall that he and the other deputy had then disappeared to secure the building. The Sheriff stayed in the room for a long time, talking with the masked man, while Miss Pauling was sedated and taken to surgery to fix up her stitches and check for any other injuries.

Nothing could be done for Scout, or for... the other Scout. Antonia tried to force the mental image out as she held onto the tea that someone had pressed into her hands. Both had been identical, one more beaten and bruised than the other. Just with the mental image, Antonia kept running over the visible injuries in her mind. Shattered patella... crushed windpipe... stab wound that stretched from the base of the sternum to middle of the diaphragm...

She had seen these injuries before. She had helped treat some of these. But never, _never_ had she seen them _inflicted_ within the medical centre.

"She'll be fine, Ant,"

Antonia jerked so violently that some of the tea slopped over the edge of the mug, spilling on the desk. Sheriff Greene was leaning on the counter in front of her, and pulled a few tissues from the tissue box beside him, offering them to her.

"Sorry, I--"

"Hey, it wasn't a pretty sight to walk into," Greene told her, "And you're fourteen. You haven't been exposed to that sort of violence yet. You don't have to apologise."

She nodded slowly, looking away. "He... Scout, the guy, he was out here talking to me before all of it. Was asking me all about digital art and photography. He was so nice," she shivered, "I... It's crazy to think that ten minutes later, he's..."

Greene grimaced, sighing heavily. "I hate to sound like an asshole, but... it's just something you have to get used to, if you plan to ride this out. I mean..." he trailed off, sighing as he rounded the counter and took a seat beside her. "Look, it's just a regular thing. You turn your back on people and there's that chance that when you turn back, they won't be there anymore."

Antonia nodded silently. "That's how it happened with my dad, isn't it?"

Greene nodded slowly. "He was right behind us. Looked away for half a second, and when we looked back... it was already too late."

Antonia already knew. She'd gone over everything, as many times as she could. The witness reports, debriefings, even pestered those who had been there for more information. The people that had been responsible were held accountable, and their corpses now rotted in unmarked graves in the local cemetery.

"If it's any consolation, that Spy bloke reassured me that death ain't as permanent for them, apparently," he gave her a slight smile, "I know you were starting to be friendly with that guy. I've been reassured that you'll see him again."

"What about the other one?" Antonia asked, "The one in blue? Who was he, some sort of twin?"

"Evil clone, apparently,"

She would have thought he was joking, if not for his expression. "You're kidding, right?" She asked, but he shook his head.

"They've got a machine, makes an identical copy of them whenever they die, no matter where they are, and over time I just got... old, I guess. Apparently they were running tests to make sure it worked fine but it churned out clones with problems in the brains. I'm gonna have to ask Ludwig when he comes in again - Spy only knows the basics of how the damn thing works, and didn't seem eager to co-operate."

"He's been here a couple times," Antonia admitted, "He never wants to co-operate. Anyway, this machine - it can _make copies of people_?"

Greene gave her an odd look, smiling slightly before shaking his head. "I always forget how like your dad you are. Don't worry, kiddo; we'll figure something out."

"Oh, also," she added drily, "That Spy can cloak. Go completely invisible. Saw him do it myself, right before Scout came back from the coffee machine. I don't know what kind of tech he's using but we really should try and get our hands on it."

"That ain't gonna happen unless we were to get the drop on him and kill him," Greene replied, shaking his head, "We'll let them have that for now."

Spy scoled as he watched Greene and the girl talking. " _Let them have that_ ", as though they had the power and authority to take property belonging to Mann Co. and TF Industries.

He remained where he was, hidden completely, as he watched the much older man offer the girl "something stronger than tea", and they both stood up. That was when he noticed something about the girl, Antonia. Such a lovely name, but he had considered her rather ungraceful, as though she had recently had a growth spurt and was still road-testing her new size. As Greene politely gestured for her to go first, Spy realised all of that teenage awkwardness was gone; she carried herself tall, proud, like an adult with many years to their past. The smile she gave Greene could have even been described as coy. In short, the girl was gone and a woman in the body of a fourteen-year-old girl was leading the way from the room.

Spy's scowl deepened as he considered this. The girl was fourteen and was already a sort of medical intern, her role masked behind the guise of a volunteer nurse - after all, volunteer nurses weren't paid, and didn't discuss pay day with doctors. She was permitted into surgeries, as an assistant, while even paid nurses were asked to stay out in most cases. She clearly had a much firmer grasp on medical knowledge than she demonstrated, and fourteen-year-olds did not spend their evenings studying university theses on advancements in neurotechnology.

She looked fourteen, but Antonia was evidently much older.

He returned to Miss Pauling's room. The other night staff had moved through quickly, cleaning up the blood and removing the bodies. Spy had tried to intervene in the short fight, but there had been a risk of him being caught by the swing of the bat, or missing and hitting Scout instead. It had only been when the BLU's attention had turned to Miss Pauling that he had been able to step in, darting from his position and ramming his knife into the young man's spine, severing the cord for good measure. He rarely lost his composure but the neck stab had been his own sort of personal revenge.

Spy scooped up Miss Pauling's phone off the table, frowning at it as he de-cloaked. Over the course of their visits, they had purchased various pieces of modern technology that could be used effectively within the base, and Scout would have respawned three times over by now, if not more. It was unusual that the youngest member of their team had developed an understanding of the technology so quickly, and particularly irritating since he still struggled to read words with more than five letters, but for once, Scout had become useful.

" _Bonjour,_ " Spy stated as someone answered the phone at the base, " _I am certain Scout has already told you but there was an issue at the medical centre. BLU Scout was disposed of, Greene is clearing things up, and Miss Pauling tore her stitches but she will be fine."_

" _Yeah, we been kinda busy here ourselves,_ " Engie's voice replied through the phone's small speaker. " _BLU Scout wasn't the only one who wanted to get all dominator on his original self. Their Soldier and Demo came looking for the real deal. Soldier got the drop on his, but I don't know where Demo ended up. Benji only just managed to warn me in time._ "

"This is disturbing information," Spy stated, though his expression showed no emotion at all, "Did Scout respawn alright?"

" _Look at you, showin' care for the kid,_ " Engie chuckled slightly. " _Yeah, uh, he came through but BLU Scout was right behind him and for god only knows what reason, had a butterfly knife on him. It was easier just to put a round in Scout's head than try and get Medic to patch him up, once we got BLU's Scout out of the way. He's shaken, but tryin' not to show it. You know how he is._ "

Spy sighed heavily. "Is he available to talk?"

" _Yo, Scout! Spy wants a word with you._ "

There was a lot of handling noise, and Spy checked the time. It was getting close to two in the morning. He wondered if he could pay a visit to a certain someone without her brutish sons realising, then dismissed the idea. She needed her rest, and given the size of the small duplex she and the boys had been given lease of, they would almost certainly be made aware of someone entering the building.

" _Is Miss Pauling okay?_ "

The urgent note in Scout's voice was all the confirmation Spy needed that the boy had come out of a double respawn with no damage. "She pulled some of her stitches, but they are taking care of it now. It will set back her healing, but she will be fine. I hear you faced a second confrontation?"

The shudder was almost audible. " _I wish you'da let me kill him when I had the chance. He's pure evil, Spy. Let's not talk about it._ "

"Agreed," Spy filed that information away for later consideration. "Are you near the computer?"

" _Yeah, I got it open right in front of me. Why?_ "

"Find a website for Teufort Secondary School," Spy instructed, "I'm not certain how well-hidden--"

" _Got it. What do you need me to do?_ "

Fast on his feet and fast with the keyboard. "Find anything you can on a girl called Antonia Rex."

" _You mean that nurse girl? Shouldn't be too hard - she said she's already gotten awards for excellence in sciences-- Oh. Uh... it came up blank. That's weird. Hang on, let me try something. What's that French chick who had something to do with radiation? Cures?_ "

"Marie Curie?"

" _That one. How do you spell her name?_ "

Spy dutifully spelled out the name of one of the most important women in science, as Scout typed it out.

" _Huh. Weird._ "

"What is "weird"?" Spy asked, beginning to grow impatient.

" _Well, I was literally talkin' to her, Antonia, right before I came back to the room. She told me she and one other kid got this local award, the Marie Curie Award for Scientific Excellence. And there's pictures of this other girl that got it. But nothing at all about Antonia. Like, she's in one and only one of the pictures from the ceremony or whatever, and her name isn't mentioned at all._ "

"Could she have been lying, perhaps? She did seem rather interested in you," Spy admitted reluctantly, "She also seems like the type of girl who would delight in running intellectual rings around males."

" _No, I mean, she even showed me this picture of her with the other girl who got the award, some Erika girl. That's the one here. And I'm looking at the gallery and the same picture of Antonia and that Erika girl are there, but... nothin' that actually mentions her. And that's the only picture._ "

Spy thought about it for a moment, regretting the no smoking rule within the hospital. "What can you find on a Sheriff Adam Greene?"

The shrug was almost audible. " _I don't know what to tell ya, Spy. I've found a few local business websites and the local high school's website, but that's about it. The town, the people - I've spent the last few days trying to look up stuff about it, but it doesn't really look like Teufort is much more than a dot on the map._ "

Spy had been active during the Cold War. He had been trained in espionage and secrecy almost from birth, and he knew that it was incredibly difficult just to keep a single person off the grid and invisible. He knew Scout, knew his abilities, and knew that he was _exceptionally_ good at finding things. He doubted using the Internet would slow the boy down too much. So the fact that Scout could barely even find an entire town had Spy unnerved more than he'd already been.

Something was definitely up with Teufort. He decided that, as soon as Miss Pauling was awake, they would have to discuss this new development.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Already so I've got a buttload of stuff I'm getting caught up in at the moment, so if you think updates are already slow, prepare for them to slow down even more. Sorry!
> 
> I am looking for someone who can make SFM models atm, so if anybody knows anyone... yeah, let me know. I'm still kinda new to here so I don't know how the messaging features work, but you're probably better off PMing me if you've got info on that one.
> 
> As always, leave me with feedback. What's up with Teufort? What are they trying to hide? Is Antonia really older than she appears? What does that mean for Jesse and Amber? Why is Spy such a douchebag to his own son? Etc etc etc. Theories are cool and I like to see what you're thinking.
> 
>  
> 
> _Alsolowkeywonderingifanybodyhasnoticedthethingswithsomeoftheteufortresidentsnames_


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